Small Miracles
by Geek1
Summary: 9th in the Dill & Ty saga. Ty learns to look after small furry mammals...or maybe not.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  
The characters and situations of the TV program "SPACE: Above and Beyond" are the creations of Glen Morgan and James Wong, Fox Broadcasting and Hard Eight Productions, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. Dylan Mackenzie belongs to me.

A/N:.. I don't usually do notes but.. sorry for the long wait .. no excuses I'm just slow.

Once again – MANY THANKS to Karen, she's the Bestest beta ever, and Vasalysa – who keeps the cheese to a minimum, and offers endless advice and help. What would I do without the two of you?

Small Miracles.

McQueen paced his cabin, examining all his options. As far as he could see he didn't actually have any. Either he asked Commodore Ross, or he didn't. It was as simple as that. Except he didn't have a choice. He had to ask him. Ty flung himself onto his bed and peered at the reason for his worry. After two months aboard the Saratoga, he finally had to let someone else know, and that someone was going to tease him mercilessly. With a sigh of resignation, knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, McQueen got up and headed for the Commodore's quarters, knowing that he'd be there strumming away on his guitar and expecting McQueen to show up at any moment.

Standing outside the door, McQueen took a deep breath and knocked loudly.

"Who's at my hatch?" came the familiar deep growl from within.

"Colonel McQueen, sir," he replied.

"Come on in, Ty," the Commodore growled again.

Still trying to decide whether to ask him now or to wait until they'd had a drink, McQueen stepped through the doorway and pushed it closed behind him.

Ross glanced up at him and shook his head. "What's up, Ty?" he asked.

McQueen frowned. Ross had always been able to read him like a book, no matter how hard he tried not to show his feelings. He stood at parade rest, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"It's this mission, Glen," McQueen said. "I need to ask you to do something for me." He hurried on at his friend's raised eyebrow. "I'm going to be away at least eight days, maybe more, and this is important…."

"If you're going to ask me to look after Dylan and the children for you if anything happens, you know you don't need to ask."

"It's not that," McQueen almost smiled, "though I know you would, Glen. But Dill wouldn't let you. I need you to feed…."

"Ty, I think after all this time I know that your precious bonsais need watering occasionally." Ross twitched a grin.

"Please, Glen, let me finish," McQueen tried again. "When I came back from leave, I brought back a present from my children. I know it's against regs, but I did it anyway."

"Ty McQueen breaking regs?" Ross chuckled. "You've kept it quiet. I've not heard a single whisper."

"No one knows, Glen, except you, and I'd rather it stayed that way," McQueen told him. He took a deep breath. "My children bought me a pet. It'll need feeding and cleaning while I'm away. I'm asking if you'll do that for me, please. It's a hamster... a little furball that keeps me awake at night."

"A hamster?" Ross guffawed. "Good grief, Ty! Of all the things I thought you would say, a hamster was not it. Now fish, I could see you with. Fish… but a hamster? That's a child's pet, Ty."

"Like I said, Glen, my children bought it for me," McQueen said stiffly. "Will you feed it for me?"

"Sit down, Ty, you're making me uncomfortable," Ross told him. "In fact, before you do, pour us both a drink. Of course I'll feed the thing for you. Does it have a name?"

"It does indeed have a name. Stirrup. The children named it," McQueen told him as he poured the drinks.

"Oh dear," Ross chuckled. "It's always a mistake to let your children name things, Ty. You really should have learnt this already."

McQueen quirked a grin as he handed Ross his rum. "That I discovered this last leave. This damn hamster is my own fault. I bought the children pets. I guess they felt I needed one." He sat down and sipped his whiskey.

"What did you buy them, a dog?" Ross asked, his eyes closed as he gently strummed yet another blues riff.

"If only it'd been that easy," McQueen sighed. "I bought Cameron what he desperately wanted and got myself in Dill's bad books because of it. Made a whole lot of work for myself too. If I ever say I can do carpentry, just remind me that I can't."

"Carpentry?" Ross asked, opening his eyes and staring at McQueen.

"It's a long story," McQueen smiled. "Involving pigs, goats, rabbits and a whole lot of wood."

Ross's eyes grew wide. "Now you have to tell me," he grinned. "As your commanding officer, I'm making it an order."

"Well," McQueen told him, "it started with a piglet…."

By the time he'd finished telling the story, Ross had tears streaming down his face.

"I can just see the expression on your face when Dylan said she'd get help... that 'I'm a Marine, I can do this' look you get," Ross laughed. "Oh, the humiliation... the honour of the corps at stake!"

"It's not that funny Glen," McQueen scowled.

"Yes, it is. You forget I've known you a long time, Ty. It's taken you years to accept that you can't do everything. It must have been so galling to discover that fence building is not a skill you have."

McQueen sipped his whiskey, scowling at Ross.

The following morning at 06:30 the 58th and McQueen were geared up and climbing aboard the ISSAPC that was parachuting them behind enemy lines. They were on a fact finding mission. McQueen didn't like it. Radio silence the whole time, except for a five mike window each day enabling them to zip the information they'd gathered about the enemy's troop movements, supplies and numbers, back to the Saratoga. They had no idea when they'd be picked up. Eight days was an estimate. At some point towards the end of that time they'd be given co-ordinates for their pick up. But until then, they were on their own.

Of course it wasn't the first such mission they'd had, and McQueen was sure it wouldn't be the last. But something about it gave him the jitters, and he had them triple check their gear before they got on board. His nervousness was made all the worse when the door to the bay slammed open and Ross strode through it, a look of deadly seriousness on his face.

"Colonel McQueen?"

"Sir!" McQueen almost jumped to attention, he was so nervous.

"I came to let you know," Ross's eyes twinkled, seeing the nervousness McQueen displayed. It wasn't obvious to anyone else, but Ross knew the signs, "that you needn't worry about it. I'll take care of it for you. It'll be waiting for you when you get back."

Ross watched with delight as he saw realisation dawn on McQueen's face, and the glare he gave him before speaking.

"Thank you, sir. I have no doubt of your abilities. Just don't lose it, sir, or Dill will kill us both."

With that, McQueen turned and herded the 58th onto the ISSAPC, while Ross chuckled softly, as McQueen turned to give him one final glare before the doors closed.

Three days later they huddled together for warmth in their one remaining tent. The rain had started that morning. Within seconds it had been falling so heavily that they were all soaked to the skin, and the girls - Major Shane Vansen and Captain Vanessa Damphousse - had disappeared into their tent to put on dry clothing while McQueen and Hawkes hastily arranged some tarps to keep the worst of the rain off their campsite.

West had been standing guard when he'd heard the rumbling over the steady noise of the rain. His heart had stopped in his chest as he'd realised what he was hearing. With a cry, he'd leapt forward and grabbed both girls, pulling them out of their tent as the flash flood burst through the trees, carrying away the tent and all it's contents. McQueen and Hawkes had grabbed their packs just in time, though McQueen's pack had got a severe soaking before he'd managed to hoist it onto his back. Hawkes had grabbed for the second tent, and somehow managed to climb up into a tree whilst hanging on to it.

They'd spent five hours huddled in the trees - trees which had been their cover, and now were the only thing between them and the raging torrent below - before the water had subsided enough to allow them to get down and search for a safer camp site. By the time they found one that was to McQueen's satisfaction, they were all covered in filthy, stinking mud from the flood, and both girls were practically blue with cold, still wearing only the underwear they'd been in when West had grabbed them.

The three men had rummaged in their packs for dry clothing. McQueen discovered his pack hadn't been properly closed and, to his disgust, everything was wet. Hawkes and West, however, had dry flight suits that they gave to the girls. Then they'd stripped off their wet ones and hung them to dry as best they could outside, under more hastily arrange tarps, while they huddled in the sleeping bags with the girls for warmth. They'd grumbled incessantly about sharing the bags, until McQueen had snapped at them that they needed to share warmth, unless they wanted to get hypothermia. His mood had been bad ever since he'd found the radio had also got wet, and until it dried out they'd have no idea of how badly damaged it was.

McQueen sat at the entrance to the tent and scowled furiously. After checking over their rations he'd found that they'd lost over half of them, that half being in the girl's packs. So not only were they cold and wet, they were going to be hungry too. McQueen fidgeted. His spare flight suit was wet and hanging up to dry, but he wasn't going to take off the one he wore. He had on under his turtleneck the t-shirt Dill had sent him, with the picture of her decked out in sexy underwear and stockings. He'd taken to wearing it at times of stress, and this mission had stressed him from the moment he'd read the briefing notes. He figured the t-shirt was his version of Hamish's comfort blanket, but no one else needed to see it.

McQueen thanked God that he wasn't wearing the black silk boxers she'd sent him. At least if he had to strip off, the t-shirt would be hidden. But everyone would see his boxers. He hadn't yet got up the courage to wear them, afraid of the fact that he couldn't send them to the laundry without scuttlebutt having it ship-wide by the end of the day. The t-shirt he'd washed in his bathroom, but he wasn't sure about the boxers. He'd probably ruin them.

As he sat there, cold and miserable, McQueen's mind ran aimlessly while he watched the surrounding area carefully. At least all the rain would keep the chigs indoors, he figured. They hated the wet. Suddenly he felt a warm glow deep inside him; a distinct feeling of happiness, joy and childish delight. It instantly made him think of home, and despite himself, he smiled, picturing his three children as he'd last seen them. The boys: three year old twins, the image of him, standing in their pyjamas to wave him goodbye. The smaller of the two, Cameron, clutching his 'daddy doll' Cashus tightly to him, whilst his thumb was firmly wedged in his mouth and tears threatened to fall. Hamish, a head taller than his brother, his lip trembling, and his little head bobbing as he desperately tried not to cry. Both of them fair like him, with eyes that changed their shade of blue with their moods, just as his did. Isobel - Izzy - held in Dill's arms as she cried and called for him, desperate for her daddy to come back to her... tears streaming down her little face as she watched him being driven away by her beloved Gamma, Dill's mother Moira. And then there was Dill - Dylan - his wife. Small and elfin like, with big blue eyes and a cheeky grin that he loved so much, her hair a mass of wild curls that bobbed as she spoke, or laughed, or giggled, as she so frequently did.

McQueen sighed, a great chest heaving sigh, and reached to hold onto the feeling of home. Something that as an invitro, he'd never thought he would ever have. He'd gone twenty years feeling like an outsider... the scum of the earth. Twenty years, during which he'd suffered all manner of abuse, from the physical to the verbal, and just about everything in between. Even during his first marriage he'd never really felt comfortable. And then six years ago he'd met Dylan, and it was as if everything had fallen into place. McQueen smiled to himself. She'd never cared that he was a tank. His birth had never been an issue for her. The very fact that he'd spent the first eighteen years of his life in a growth tank before being decanted, and sent for five hellish years to the uranium mines on Omicron Draconis, was something that brought out her maternal instincts, and he had to admit sometimes he felt like he was the fourth child in the family as she bossed him about endlessly.

McQueen knew Dill couldn't help it, and in fact he knew he responded to it surprisingly well. It was one of the things he loved about her. She knew she did it and tried hard not to, but at each and every turn she found herself doing it again. He knew, though he'd never admit it to her, that he played up to it. He loved the feeling that he was being looked after. Even after six years it was still a feeling he enjoyed. McQueen was aware that his therapist, Hilary, felt that Dill was smothering him... dominating him. But he'd yet to get her to understand that that was what he wanted. What he needed. It seemed that only Dill understood that, and even then it wasn't a conscious understanding on her part.

McQueen turned as he felt movement behind him, and a hand rested gently on his shoulder. It was Damphousse, who'd come to sit beside him.

"Sir, why don't you take off that wet suit and get into the bags with the others. I'm dry and warm now. I can take a watch," she said softly, her voice low so that only he could hear her.

"Thank you, Vanessa, but I'm okay," he told her.

"Sir, you're soaked through. You'll get pneumonia," she persisted.

"I said I'm fine, Captain," McQueen snapped. Instantly he was sorry for snipping at her. "I'm sorry, Vanessa. I appreciate your thoughts, but I'm fine. Honestly. I won't get pneumonia, I promise." He gave her a small, quick smile.

Vanessa looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then, her brown eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter, she asked, "Are you wearing them, sir? Is that why you won't strip off?"

McQueen looked at her - at this lovely black woman sitting beside him. Her concern for him obvious. Of all his 'kids', Damphousse was the one who knew him better than he'd ever realised. He smiled at her, remembering that she'd seen the silk boxers Dill had stashed in his bag.

"No, Vanessa, I'm not wearing them." For a moment McQueen hesitated, then, "I haven't worn them. I daren't send them to the laundry."

"Oh no, sir, the last thing you want to do is send them to the laundry. They'll ruin them!" 'Phousse exclaimed.

"I know. They ruined a shirt that Dill sent me," he smiled sadly.

"That lovely blue one, which matched your eyes?" she asked.

McQueen looked at her long and hard. "Should I be worried that you know exactly which shirt I'm referring to?"

Vanessa blushed. "Sorry, sir," she whispered. Then she looked up at him and smiled. "But since you met your wife, sir, we've watched your six the whole time. We know whenever she sends you new clothes. Shane and I probably know your wardrobe as well as you do, sir. Sorry. I realise you feel it's an invasion of your privacy, but really sir, it's just that… well… we care about you."

McQueen turned away from her. "I know you do, Vanessa," he whispered, "I appreciate it. More than you realise."

Again he felt her hand on his shoulder. "No, sir. We know how much you care for us. What you did to keep us together... what you continue to do, sir." Damphousse squeezed his shoulder. "And sir, I have some special soap just for washing silk, so if you want to wear them, I'll give it to you when we get back."

McQueen turned to look at her, his face flushed. "Thank you, Vanessa. I'll ask Dill to send me some."

"Now then, sir, go on. Go get out of those wet things and get yourself warm, please," she pleaded.

Smiling, he acquiesced. "Okay, but call me if you see anything."

"Yes, sir!" Vanessa grinned, as McQueen crawled back into the tent, careful not to disturb any of the sleeping bodies already wedged into the sleeping bags.

After wriggling around to get himself out of the cold, wet suit, McQueen passed it to Damphousse, who hung it out with the others in the vain hopes that it might dry. He lay down, closer to Vansen than he would have liked, but there was no space anywhere else. He curled onto his side, his hand wandering unconsciously under his turtleneck to stroke the picture of Dill as he fell almost instantly asleep, more tired and exhausted than he'd realised.

Damphousse sat and watched him. She smiled as she saw him curl up and go to sleep, his back to Vansen, but frowned as she saw his hand wander under his shirt. Once he woke up, she decided, she was going to insist she take a look at his ribs. If he was cradling them in his sleep then at the very least he'd bruised them.

McQueen woke up to the smell of food, and his stomach growled loudly. He stretched himself, trying to work out the kinks in his muscles, groaning as he realised his shirt was still damp. Sitting up, he looked about. He was alone in the tent, and the rain seemed to have stopped. He could see the others sitting outside around a small fire, heating up some of their precious MREs. Reaching for his pack, McQueen wondered if he dare risk taking off his turtleneck so that he could take off the damp t-shirt underneath. He checked the others again. None of them were looking in his direction. He shifted himself so he sat with his back to them and began pulling the turtleneck over his head.

"Careful, sir!" he heard Damphousse say from behind him. "I saw the way you hugged your ribs. If you've bruised them, maybe we should strap you up for a while. Let me see."

"My ribs are fine, Damphousse," he told her, his voice muffled as he pulled the turtleneck back down.

"Sir, you lay down and cradled your ribs. It's no use pretending you haven't hurt yourself. That was a give away," she said sternly.

"Damphousse, I haven't hurt my ribs! Now can I please finish taking off my damp shirt with at least a pretence at privacy?" he snapped, refusing to turn around even though she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, please let me see your ribs. I'll worry all day if you don't. And at least I'll be able to tell the others that you're fine. We're worried about you, sir," Vanessa pleaded.

"You told the others I was hurt?" McQueen was furious with her. "Damn you, captain! You wanna see my ribs? Here, look!" He turned to face her and pulled his clothing over his head and off, so that he was clad only in his khaki boxers. "See? No bruises. No nothing! I'm fine, just as I said I was! What is this? 'Be over protective of McQueen' day?" He shivered in the cold.

Damphousse stifled a gasp as she saw the scars on his chest. The fact that he'd actually gotten a suntan whilst on leave made them appear paler, so that they stood out more.

"Happy now?" McQueen snapped, feeling vulnerable and self conscious, unhappy that she'd seen how bad his scars were. The only person he felt totally at ease with about them was Dill. "See anything you like?"

"Colonel, you're cold. Come outside and sit by the fire. We've heated you an MRE. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, but you were hugging yourself in your sleep," Vanessa told him apologetically, a blush creeping up her face. She was overcome with guilt that she'd pushed him when he was so obviously uncomfortable about showing his body.

"Well, I'm fine. Go tell the others I'm fine, and if our clothes are at least drier than they were earlier, tell them we're moving out!"

Damphousse nodded at him and left him alone. He was obviously now in a bad mood, and it might be best to just let him work himself out of it.

"But our clothes are still damp!" Hawkes groaned when she told them they were moving on.

"Yeah, we'll all get pneumonia or something," West muttered as he pulled his still damp flight suit from the makeshift line.

"What's the matter, Hawkes? Afraid you'll catch a chill? Put them on and stop griping!" McQueen scowled as he emerged from the tent, his turtleneck back on, as he reached checking to see which of his flight suits was the driest. "Eat your food and let's pack up. We need to get to our next set of co-ordinates before it starts raining again. Vansen, you check the radio?"

"Yes, sir. It's drying out. There doesn't seem to be too much damage. I think we can still receive, but maybe not send," she fidgeted awkwardly.

"And?" McQueen demanded as he pulled his suit on and zipped it up.

"Maybe it's the other way around, but I won't know until it's properly dry."

"So why are you sitting around? Get it dried off ASAP, major!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" she returned before scurrying off to find something to dry the radio.

"Sir," Damphousse held out an MRE to him, "you need to eat too, sir."

"I don't have time to eat," he told her, disappearing back into the tent to find his boots.

"What crawled up his butt in the night?" Hawkes muttered. "We're cold and wet and he won't let us stay here. It ain't like the chigs are gonna be any better off than us, is it?"

"Hell, Hawkes, he's in a bad enough mood already. Don't piss him off anymore, man!" West grumbled. "Who knows how long he'll make us march before he's happy."

"Do you people have a problem? Shall I say it again in words of two syllables? Get your gear packed and move out!" McQueen yelled at them as he emerged, pack in hand from the tent.

They scurried about while McQueen stood and glared at them, before he stormed off to scout out the area ahead of them, his M-590 gripped firmly in his hands. When he returned ten mikes later they'd cleared the camp and were sitting waiting for him, their faces sullen as he told them to get moving.

Four hours later he stopped, allowing them to rest, and rummaged in his pack for a ration bar. Despite his protest to Damphousse earlier, he was hungry and should have eaten the MRE they'd heated for him. Somehow though, despite his hunger, his appetite just wasn't there. He didn't let them stop for long and they were heading off in less than twenty mikes, much to the general disgust of Hawkes who complained loudly enough to get McQueen glaring at him.

"I've had a bellyful of this bitching and moaning!" he yelled at them. "So you're wet. You're tired. You're hungry. You're Marines! Deal with it! My children whine less than you people do! Now get your gear and let's move it!"

Eight days later they emerged into the bright lights of the landing bay, dirty, smelly, exhausted, and half starved. Their food had run out two days previously and they had run into two separate chig patrols, during which they had all received minor wounds. The squad had feared for McQueen's life as he had quite obviously taken his rage and frustration out on the chigs, taking risks they knew were unnecessary and dangerous, snarling at them if they dared to tell him to be careful.

"Okay, people," McQueen growled at them. "Hit the showers, sickbay and get some food, in that order. Then hit your racks. We'll debrief at," he looked at his watch, "20:00 hours."

There was a communal groan as they realised he'd allowed them a mere four hours before the de-briefing.

"Bitching again?" he asked in a dangerously low voice.

"Sir, no, sir!" they yelled in unison, before they ran for the doorway as fast as they could, skidding to a halt as Commodore Ross stepped through the hatch in front of them.

"Colonel McQueen?" he asked them.

"Collecting his gear, sir!" Vansen answered, snapping off a smart salute as she did so.

Ross's nostrils quivered and his dark face twitched. "5-8, get to the showers now. Double time!" he ordered.

"Sir, yes, sir!" they bellowed and ran from the room.

McQueen stepped out of the ISSAPC as Ross approached it. "Commodore," he said softly.

"Ty," Ross let him know this was an informal visit. "Phew, you stink as badly as your kids do! Let me tell you what I need to on the way to your quarters."

McQueen looked at him worriedly. "Is something wrong, Glen?" he asked as they made their way to the hatch.

"I'm afraid I have bad news, Ty," Ross told him seriously.

McQueen stopped dead in his tracks, his face paling. "Is it Dill? The children? What's happened to them?"

"Relax, Ty," Ross smiled, reaching a hand to grip his friend's shoulder. "It's not them. As far as I know, they're fine. This is something else."

"Something else?" McQueen queried as he began walking again, only to stop and stare at the tall black man. "You've killed the hamster, haven't you? What did you do to it? Forget to feed it?"

"It may not actually be dead. But it's been four days, and although I've put food down, there's no sign of it," Ross admitted. "I swear I shut the lid properly, but the next morning I arrived to feed it and it was gone. No sign of it. I searched your quarters thoroughly and I couldn't find it. Hell, I even put a bowl of maple syrup down for it," he grinned, "but it hasn't turned up. I'm sorry, Ty."

McQueen glared at him. "Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm going to be in when the boys find out?" he asked him.

"Don't tell them," Ross offered as they reached the door to McQueen's quarters.

"Don't tell them? Damn, Glen, they expect regular updates on how it's doing, complete with pictures!" McQueen turned and opened the door, stepping carefully in case Stirrup should be on the floor.

About to throw his pack onto his bed, he stopped and placed it carefully on the floor instead, before stripping the bed slowly, just in case the hamster was lurking there. Satisfied it wasn't, he sat down and glared at Ross. "Damn you, Glen! How difficult is it to look after a hamster? I managed it. I should have known you'd do something like this!"

Ross sat down at one of McQueen's two desks. "I was doing exactly what you told me! I took it out and stroked it, said hello to it, and put it back. I know I shut the lid. It must be faulty. It's not my fault, Ty."

"What am I going to tell the boys?" McQueen sighed.

"Just at the moment I think your priority should be getting in the shower. What in God's name are you covered in? You stink to high hell!" Ross chuckled. "You can worry about your children afterwards. Take my advice - shower, eat and sleep. After that anything will seem easier."

"Just what I told the 58th," McQueen smiled. "Though I've kinda got used to the smell."

"Well, I haven't, so go clean up and I'll see you later in my quarters for a drink. Usual time?" Ross asked, getting up and heading for the door.

"Yeah, usual time. We're de-briefing at 20:00, then I'll come on over to you. Boy, am I ready for a stiff drink," McQueen smiled.

"Well, I have more of that whiskey Dylan keeps me supplied with especially for you," Ross chuckled.

"You have more? Did we get a mail call while we were gone?" McQueen asked, looking around at his desks.

"We did indeed," Ross told him.

"So where's my mail?"

"Er," Ross's smile turned to a frown, "there was no mail for you."

"What d'ya mean, no mail?" McQueen looked confused. "I always get mail. Dill always sends me mail."

"Nothing came, Ty. I'm sorry." Ross headed to the door. "Maybe it'll come next time."

"Yeah, maybe," McQueen muttered despondently as Ross pulled the door shut behind him.

Emptying his pack and checking his laundry bag for Stirrup before filling it with his flight suits and clothes from the mission, McQueen grabbed his t-shirt and stripped off, heading for the shower. He stood and let the hot water run over his filthy body for a few moments before reaching for his shampoo and washing his hair. He washed it twice before it finally felt clean and he moved to his mud stained body. As he reached for the shower soap, McQueen caught movement out of the corner of his eye. There, sitting amongst the soap bottles, was Stirrup. A very wet and miserable looking Stirrup to be sure, but definitely his own golden hamster.

"Hey you," he smiled. "You're soaked. Where the hell have you been? I'll bet you're hungry, too," Ty reached out and took the little creature in his hands.

Turning off the water and reaching for a towel to dry it off, McQueen carried the hamster back into the main room and rubbed it dry before putting it back in its home, making sure the lid was securely closed.

"Now just you stay in there while I get clean, and once I'm dressed, I'll get you some food and fresh water," he told it before heading back into the shower.

Finally emerging feeling clean at last, McQueen rummaged for clean clothes. His hand felt the soft silk of the boxers and he remembered Damphousse saying she had soap to wash them if he wore them. For a second he hesitated, but his sadness at having received no mail from Dill or the children overcame him, and he felt suddenly terribly homesick. The boxers were being pulled on before he'd even realised he'd done it.

McQueen stood there wearing only his boxers, looking at himself in the mirror. They were looser than he normally wore, and he wasn't sure if he liked them or not. He shimmied his hips and watched as the fabric moved, then scowled as he realised what he was doing. He dragged a turtleneck out of the drawer and pulled it on. A clean flight suit following rapidly.

By the time he'd pulled on socks and laced his boots, Ty'd remonstrated with himself for being such a fool, and turned his attention to the hamster that was sound asleep in the little plastic boot that Izzy had chosen for it. He checked that it had fresh water and enough food, and double checked the lid, finally placing a heavy book on the top just to make sure it couldn't escape again. Then creeping out quietly so that he didn't disturb it, he went to get himself some food.

Dill strolled along the path to her mother's house, smiling at the children in front of her. Hamish, holding Izzy's hand as they chased after Cameron, who had finally learned to ride his new bicycle. He was so proud to have a new bike, even though it was a tricycle. She remembered the look on his face when the delivery van had pulled up outside their house two days before the boys' third birthday. She'd panicked, wondering what the hell Ty'd bought them now, and had been relieved to see that it was only a bike for Cameron. Though the row boat for Hamish had surprised her, until Hamish had screamed in delight that daddy had got him a real pirate boat, and she'd seen painted on the prow a skull and cross bones. It was things like that, she thought, that reminded her of why she loved him so much.

That and the memory of him and the children out on the loch in the boat. Dill shook her head. Was it really only two months ago? Ty and the boys, with bandanas on their heads and eye patches he'd made for them, pretending to be real pirates as they'd raided the kitchen for food, claiming to be starving after their trip around the high seas, threatening her with plastic cutlasses, and ordering her to get them drinks and food or walk the plank.

She was still smiling when she reached her mother's house.

"Oh, Dylan, there you are!" her mother cried. "What took you so long?" She looked at Dill's face. "Oh, dreaming about T.C. again, are we? I see. Well, come in. I have something I want you to see." Moira took her into her study, away from the children, and clicked up a page on her computer. "Read this. It arrived today." She left Dill to read it.

Ten minutes later Dill emerged. "Is this your doing, mother?"

"No. They asked me if you'd be interested. They obviously felt you did a good job with T.C. and that Cooper chappie. Though I'm sure they didn't expect the end result." Moira smiled wryly at her daughter.

"None of us did, mother. That was just my good fortune," Dill grinned back. "But what do you think? Should I? Apparently it'd be safe for the children to come. And to be honest I think they'd be a help."

"Are you going to do it?" Moira asked, handing her a cup of tea.

"I don't know. I'd like to ask Ty, but the mail takes forever and they want to know by the end of the month," Dill told her, sipping at the tea as she sat down. "What should I do?"

"I think maybe we'll see if we can't wangle a live link to the Saratoga for you. If they want you enough, they'll agree to letting you speak to your husband about it first. You just tell them you can't make a decision until you've spoken to him. After all, he might not be happy with you and the children going into space, and then what would you do?"

"That's simple, mother. If Ty says no, then I won't do it." Dill put her cup on the table.

"Really? Are you feeling alright?" Moira reached a hand out to feel her forehead. "That doesn't sound like the Dylan I know."

"They're his children too, mother. If he doesn't feel it's safe for them, then who am I to argue? After all, he does know what he's talking about. He's been out there long enough…," she was interrupted by one of her young sons.

"Mummy! Quick! Izzy's eating a bug!" Cameron told her, his eyes wide. "It's a wriggly one, mummy!"

Dill dashed into the other room and came back with her 18 month old daughter in her arms. She held her firmly over the kitchen sink and washed her mouth out with soap while her mother and sons watched. Once she was done she put the now screaming toddler down and sat back down with her tea. "And I'll do that every time you eat a bug, young lady! And crying for daddy won't help you either!"

"Finally trying to break her of that disgusting habit, are you?" Moira laughed. "Well, a least if you do go, there'll be no bugs for her to eat."

"Oh, she'd find something, don't you worry," Dill said, finishing her tea. "Right. I'll go tell them I need to talk to Ty first, and ask them to arrange it. Then I shall take my brood home and feed them before I put them to bed and sit down to read the latest batch of letters from Ty."

She was back in ten minutes, and gathering up the children, she headed home, promising the children they could make a disc to send to daddy before they went to bed.

Three weeks later found her packing to take the children into space with her. Dill hadn't been able to speak to Ty. It seemed that the Saratoga was too far away to enable a live link, and so she'd sent him a message telling him about it, and her mother had promised to pull as many strings as she could to ensure he found out sooner rather than later. It had been a hard decision for her to make, but she'd finally agreed to it after she'd been assured that they would be far behind the battle lines and given large quarters on the space station Mir. She just hoped that it wouldn't fall apart the way its namesake had.

It wasn't for long, Dill kept telling herself… a simple six month stint doing what she knew how to do. What she'd done already, she smiled. Well, of course helping Ty to play had been easy once he'd finally let himself go. And Cooper had been just a big kid himself. Would the other invitros she was going to deal with be as easy as they had? She certainly had a much better understanding of invitros now, and that would definitely stand her in good stead.

Closing the case, she frowned. It hadn't been that long ago that she'd told Ty she was too busy with the children to work, and now here she was dragging them across the universe so that she could. Considering he'd made it obvious that he thought she should be at home with the children and not working, she wasn't at all convinced he'd be pleased about it. She was hoping, however, that it might make it easier for them to get together. Cameron had been telling her a lot just lately that daddy was angry, or upset or just plain unhappy. Ty's therapist Hilary had told her he'd started missing sessions too, and she was seriously worried about him. Not half as worried as I am, Dill thought, as she put the case on the floor and picked up another to begin filling.


	2. Chapter 2

Small Miracles 2.

Dill sat on her bed. Now that she was actually there, she wasn't sure if she'd done the right thing. The journey had been easier than she thought it would be, on her own with three small children. The military high ups had smoothed the way for her, and the boys had been terribly excited. Only Izzy had been badly affected, convinced somehow that she was going to see her daddy. Dill wasn't exactly sure where that idea had come from. She'd been careful not to imply any such thing.

The children were fed and asleep, and now she was stuck with nothing to do. Sighing, she pulled out a word pad and began to plan out the next six months. Play sessions for military invitros... piece of cake, she told herself. You can do this in your sleep, what are you worried about? And a tiny voice answered her. Ty. He won't like it... he won't like it at all.

McQueen lay in his bed wondering what he was going to tell Dill. The hamster had, it seemed, amazing skills at escapology, and no matter what he did, he would regularly arrive back in his quarters to find the damn thing's cage empty. He'd given up worrying about it after the fourth time. It always seemed to stay in his room, and eventually when it got hungry enough, would present itself to him, usually at some inappropriate moment or in some inappropriate manner. He was still thankful that he'd not had to go to sickbay to have sunflower seeds removed from his ear after he'd woken to find it trying to stash food there one night. Damn thing's lucky to still be alive, he thought, the amount of times he'd almost trodden on it, or rolled over in his sleep to find it peering at him from his pillow. This time though it had been AWOL for well over a week, and there'd been no sign that it had been back to its cage for food.

Of course he hadn't been around much to search for it. The 'Toga had, as usual, been in the thick of things, sustaining severe damage in the process. Four landing bays were inoperable, two laser cannons needed replacing, and there'd been hull breaches in several places including the bridge. One hundred and fifty people had lost their lives on the ship alone. Twelve hammerhead pilots had died, and McQueen himself had only just managed to get commodore Ross off the bridge before it completely depressurised.

They had lost gravity ship wide for over an hour, and life support had been hit hard. They'd had to cut back on heating to ensure they had enough power to keep pumping oxygen, which was why he was lying in his bed fully clothed, with an old baggy sweatshirt over the top of his flight suit and two extra pairs of socks on. The crew had been confined to quarters whilst not actually on duty in the hopes that it might conserve oxygen if people weren't moving around too much.

With Stirrup having been gone so long, McQueen was sure that the combination of gravity loss and cold had probably killed it. He just hoped he found it before it began to stink the place out. Rolling onto his back, he shivered. Damn, but it was cold. He knew he had a spare blanket somewhere and got up to find it. Ty smiled. Dill called him her own personal hot water bottle, but he'd give anything for one of her nice cosy duvets right about now. He rummaged under the bed, sure that the spare blanket was in his footlocker. What he found wasn't a spare blanket, but a small, cold, furry body. He held the hamster in his hands, examining it for signs of life.

It felt stone cold, and there was no sign of it breathing. Its eyes were closed and the familiar twitch of its whiskers was missing. McQueen sat on the bed, suddenly feeling inexplicably sad. He was going to miss the rotten little thing, he thought. No more waking up to hear it scrabbling about in it's cage or running endlessly in it's little wheel. No bright little eyes peering at him as he told it how he felt. No being woken by whiskers twitching on his face or food being forced in his ears or nostrils.

McQueen sat for a while thinking about how he'd come to like the annoying little fur ball... how much he'd enjoyed talking to it... the way it would lie in his hand and wait for him to stroke it, its eyes peering up at him as if to say 'well come on, what are you waiting for?'

What did you do with a dead hamster? McQueen wondered how you disposed of it. Have to stick it in an old sock and put it in the zero-g waste disposal, he concluded. He found a pair of socks that were ready to be thrown away and wrapped the hamster tightly. Taking off the sweatshirt, he pulled on his boots and headed to the nearest disposal unit. He was about to throw it in when he heard someone come up behind him. He turned, hiding his sock behind his back, ready to yell at whoever it was about breaking regulations, when he realised that's exactly what he was doing.

It turned out to be Hawkes, on his way to the 58th's quarters after being released from sickbay. He'd banged his head while out patrolling and had only now been cleared to leave, the doctors deciding he showed no signs of concussion.

"Hawkes! Why aren't you in your quarters?" McQueen demanded.

"They just let me outta sickbay, sir," Cooper replied.

"Well, get to your quarters right away!" McQueen growled, turning and heading for his own.

Just then they suddenly lost gravity. It returned seconds later, causing them both to tumble to the floor, and McQueen to lose hold of the sock as he grabbed for something to keep his balance. Hawkes picked it up, a puzzled look on his face as he felt it soft and squidgey. Almost before he realised what he was doing, his curiosity overcame him and he was pulling the sock to see what was inside. His face became a picture of horror.

"You were going to put this in the zero –gee?" he asked.

"It's dead, Hawkes. It won't mind," McQueen told him.

"What is it? Is this what was in that box? The present from your kids?"

McQueen had the grace to blush as he nodded.

"And now it's dead? You killed it?" Hawkes voice was filled with disgust. "You killed the animal your kids gave you?"

"I didn't kill it, Hawkes!" McQueen growled. "It escaped from its cage. The cold and lack of gravity killed it."

"But you're shoving it out the zero-gee!" Hawkes cried. "I mean, it's your family. You should have a proper funeral and stuff."

"It's a hamster, Hawkes. You don't have a funeral for a damn hamster!" McQueen snapped at him.

"I'm gonna ask 'Phousse. She always knows." Hawkes turned and headed off, the hamster still in his hands.

"Hawkes!" McQueen called after him.

Cooper stopped and turned. "Sir?"

"My hamster." McQueen held out his hand.

Hawkes shook his head. "Oh no, sir. And have you just put it in the trash?" He turned and hurried away.

"Hawkes!" McQueen yelled again. Damn him, he thought. He's such a blabber mouth, it'll be all over the ship in no time! McQueen rethought that statement. No, he'd tell the 58th. Which would be worse, because he dreaded to think what they'd do. With a sigh, he went back to his quarters and continued the search for that extra blanket.

Dill was preparing for her first session, and wishing she'd brought someone with her to look after the children. Or left them at home with her mother. She sighed. She couldn't possibly have left them behind. Poor Ty, he was always leaving them. He had no choice, but she did. She turned to the three smiling faces watching her.

"Come on, my lovers, let's go play with some big guys!" she smiled brightly.

"Mummy?" Hamish asked as they made for the door.

"Yes, darling?" Dill bent to pick up Izzy.

"Is daddy coming to see us?"

"I don't think so, my lover. He's very busy at the moment. He might not be allowed to," she told him, her hand ruffling his hair. "I'm afraid daddy can't always do what he'd like to. He has to do what he's told."

"You can tell him, mummy," Cameron piped up. "He does what you tell him to do."

Dill smiled. "Only at home, sweetie. When he's working he has to do what Glen tells him."

"Who's Glen?" Cameron asked as they headed to the rooms assigned to her for the training sessions.

"Hold Hamish's hand please, Cameron. And no running off, Hamish, or I _will_ make you wear reins!" she stated firmly.

"But mummy, who's Glen?" Cameron persisted.

"Glen is daddy's commanding officer. That means that Glen is in charge. He's what's called a Commodore. The Saratoga is his ship and what he says goes."

"If he said daddy could come see us, he could?" Hamish asked.

"Yes, my lover. But daddy only just had leave. He won't get any more for a long time. He's going to try to come home for Christmas," she smiled wistfully. "That'd be nice, wouldn't it?"

"Mummy, are you the commodore of our house? Is that why daddy does as he's told when you tell him?" Cameron asked.

"I guess you could say that," Dill laughed. "But at home daddy is a commodore too. Or whatever the marine equivalent is. We're both in charge."

"Oh no, mummy. Daddy says he better do what you tell him or he won't get to kiss you. He likes kissing you, mummy," Cameron smiled up at her.

"I like kissing him too," she chuckled. "He's a cheeky daddy, saying that. You know I'd never not kiss all you guys."

"Mummy, look!" Hamish pointed.

They'd turned a corner and there in front of them, to Dill's astonishment, was a small selection of shops. Izzy started to squeal and fidget in her arms, pointing to one of the windows.

"Bug!" she cried. "Bug! Wants bug!"

The boys ran to the window she pointed at. There, in technicolor glory, was a large rubber grasshopper. It was of a colour no real grasshopper would ever be. It had a bright red body and royal blue legs, it's wings were a shade of violent orange that made your eyes hurt, and it had quite possibly the most revolting looking face that Dill had ever seen. Who on earth decided that it should look like that, Dill wondered, as Izzy crowed softly over it, her hand reaching to paw at the glass in front of her.

"Bug?" Izzy asked, her eyes shining brightly. "Izzy's bug?"

"No, darling, you don't need it. Mummy brought you lots of toys," Dill told her.

"But mummy, it's a bug, just like Izzy eats!" Cameron giggled.

Izzy glared at Dill. "Bug!" she demanded.

"No, Izzy. Now come on, guys, we'll be late. That wouldn't be good, would it?" Dill said, turning from the window and walking away.

"Bug!" Izzy yelled. "Izzy bug!"

"Stop it, Izzy, or I'll get cross," Dill told her firmly.

Izzy screwed her face up, preparing to scream, then growled, "Izzy daddy bug."

Dill couldn't believe her ears. Izzy, at eighteen months, was already aware she could play her parents off against each other.

"Well, daddy's not here, so he won't be buying it for you!" Dill said crossly. "Get moving boys!"

She strode away, the howling Izzy in her arms, determined now that there was no way she was getting that hideous bug.

McQueen was once again sat in Glen Ross's quarters, sipping whiskey while Glen strummed his favourite blues tunes.

"So, Ty, are you all set for the morning?" Ross grinned at him.

"I can't believe you allowed Hawkes to do this Glen. It's ridiculous," McQueen groused.

"He told me that he feels it's appropriate. A member of the 58th, by default admittedly, has died, and a proper funeral should be observed." Ross smiled evilly. "And I happened to agree with him. Hell, Ty, that little fur ball got under your skin. Admit it. I was shocked to hear that you were going to just put it in the disposal. And wrapped in a sock, of all things!" He shook his head, laughing.

"What are you supposed to do with them?" McQueen took a large gulp of his drink, sighing contentedly as the whiskey warmed his throat on the way down.

"At home you dig a hole in the yard, the family stands around, and either you or the kids say a few words. Then you bury it and forget all about it until the dog digs it up a few weeks later," Ross laughed.

"Well, I'm not at home am I? And even if I was, we don't have a dog."

"No, you have a pig, a goat and a rabbit. What next? A sheep? A cow?" guffawed Ross. "They should have named you Noah."

McQueen glared at him. "It's three animals. That hardly counts as an Ark's worth. As I recall, didn't he collect two of everything?"

"Just wait till your next leave. Now the kids know what a soft touch you are, it'll be lions and tigers they want next time!" Ross chuckled.

"Oh no. I learned my lesson well. Next time I'll ask Dill before I do anything stupid," McQueen smiled.

"You should have learned that a long time ago, Ty. It would have saved you a whole lot of grief. It makes things flow so much more smoothly if you just do as your wife says first time around. They always seem to know best. And if you're lucky, they don't rub your nose in it afterwards."

"Dill rarely does that," McQueen smiled.

"I'll bet you get a small shake of the head, a soft sigh, and that look of resignation that might just be pity at your foolishness," Ross smiled.

McQueen nodded his assent. "Sounds familiar."

"Ah, women. Can't live with them, wouldn't want to live without them," Ross chuckled.

"Speak for yourself," McQueen retorted. "I could live permanently with Dill quite happily. I tell you Glen, at home it's so peaceful, so calm…"

"Three young children and you say it's calm?"

"Surprisingly, yes it is. After dealing with the 58th, my children are easy. They confuse the hell out of me, but I understand where they're at. Doesn't feel like too long ago I was there too," McQueen laughed.

"I forget how young you really are, Ty. You're what - twenty-four, twenty-five?"

"I'm twenty-six, if you're looking at it like that."

"What other way is there to look at it?" Ross asked, putting his guitar down.

"Well, when I look in the mirror I see a forty-four year old looking back at me," McQueen sighed.

"How old is she?" Ross asked him.

"She's thirty. Just turned in July."

"So she's older than you," Ross grinned. "No wonder she understands you so well. Now then, McQueen, some of us old fogies still require our beauty sleep. I'll see you bright and early. Dress blues, remember, and no trying to worm your way out of it."

"Yes, sir," McQueen frowned, getting up to leave. "Goodnight sir."

"Good night Ty."

Dill and the children arrived to find four burly, sullen looking soldiers sitting there. Instantly she was transported back to her first session with Ty and Cooper. She took a deep breath and strode in, the children at her heels.

"Hello, gentleman. My name is Dylan, and these are my children. Let me introduce them - you're going to be seeing a lot of them over the next few weeks." She called the boys over.

"This big lad here is Hamish. He's three years old. And this," she ruffled his hair, "is his twin Cameron. In my arms I have Isobel, better known as Izzy. Call her what you will, she answers to both, and she's eighteen months old. All three know how to play, and I'm sure will be helping you enjoy yourselves before too long. This is not a pass or fail class. There is no test at the end. We're here simply to relax, let go and enjoy ourselves. We won't be formal, so please, my name is Dylan, and I don't want to hear people calling me ma'am."

She looked at the four men. "Your turn. And please - I'm not interested in your serial number or rank. Just your names."

They grudgingly each stood up and she found she was faced with an Amyas, a Leopold, a Godfrey and a Talbot.

"Good grief! The names they lumber you poor invitros with. Does someone spend their life digging out weird and wonderful names for you all, do you think? Someone with a nasty sense of humour," she exclaimed.

That caused a few smiles, and one of them actually spoke.

"Well, ma'… Dylan, your names not so ordinary either."

"I guess it's not," she smiled at the small, dark man. "Talbot, isn't it?" He nodded. "But there's a reason for that. Maybe I'll tell you when I get to know you all better."

They grinned at her, and she felt it wasn't going to be too bad. She put Izzy down and stretched herself. "Sorry, gentleman, but she weighs a ton."

"Mummy?" It was Hamish pulling on her jeans.

"Yes, my lover?"

"What we gonna do?" he asked tentatively, looking at these strange men. "Is daddy coming too?"

"No, darling. I told you daddy has to work."

"With Glen?"

"Yes, darling, with Glen."

Hamish sighed. "Can I go play?"

"Of course you can," Dill smiled. "You too, Cameron, if you want to." She watched as the boys and Izzy took off to explore the room, glad that she'd insisted on plenty of paint, paper and drawing materials… as well as a huge train set. After seeing how involved Ty had got with the boys' one, she'd pushed to be allowed one for using in these sessions.

"So," she turned to the four men who'd been watching her intently, "what shall we do first? Anyone for foot painting?"

McQueen couldn't believe the sight that greeted him. The 58th in their dress uniforms, Ross in his, and the chaplain too. How the hell did Hawkes get the chaplain to agree to this, he wondered, as he stood there not really paying attention. The 58th were neatly lined up to the side. Except for Hawkes, who stood proudly holding a small white box, covered in…. McQueen almost laughed out loud. A tiny flag covered the box. 'Where the hell did he get that', he wondered.

The chaplain continued his speech. 'Get on with it!', thought McQueen, 'before someone comes in here and sees the Commodore, a Colonel, a Major and three Captains, not to mention the chaplain, all standing to attention at the funeral of a goddamn hairy fur ball of a hamster! We would never live it down'. The 58th and he, in particular, would be the butt of even more jokes than they already were. The chaplain finished, and apparently from nowhere Ross pulled a bugle and began to play.

McQueen actually gasped in shock. 'My God, he's playing Taps. It's a hamster!' he wanted to shout. 'Are we going to have a twenty–one gun salute too?' He stood there saluting, as everyone else did, while Hawkes bent to load the tiny box ready for shooting into space.

McQueen watched as, with a puzzled look on his face, Hawkes stopped what he was doing. The younger man removed the flag, casually dropping it to the floor in his haste to open the box. Once he had it opened, his face lit up and he grinned widely at everyone.

"It's alive! A miracle! It must be a miracle! It was dead, but now it's alive!" He turned to McQueen. "Colonel, it's alive!"

"Great," mumbled McQueen, taking the box Hawkes thrust at him. "Damn hamster, make your mind up. Are you dead or alive?"

"Aren't you glad now I stopped you throwing it in the waste disposal?" Hawkes asked, as everyone gathered around to see.

McQueen looked at the faces watching him. He sighed. "Yes, Hawkes, I guess I am. Thank you."

They all smiled at him, knowing he didn't really mean it. But then McQueen realised that actually, yes, he was glad. He reached out to take Hawke's arm as the boy turned to leave.

"I mean it, Cooper. Thank you." Closing the box, McQueen left and headed back to his quarters, readying to feed the hamster and ensure it had a plentiful supply of water. "We have a second chance, fur ball" he told it. "This time I'm going to research hamsters and actually find out how to look after you properly."

He heard someone behind him. Turning, he saw Ross hurrying to catch him up. "Ty, wait up!" he called. Reaching him, Glen smiled. "Once you're back in your regular gear I want you to come to my office. I've something I want to discuss with you."

"Sure. I just need to put this thing back in its cage and make sure it can't escape, and I'll be right there," Ty nodded absently.

"Fifteen mikes, McQueen. I'll expect you then."

He looked up, hearing the official tone of Ross's voice. "Yes, sir. Fifteen mikes, sir."

Fifteen mikes later did indeed find him in the doorway to Ross's office, Stirrup safely ensconced in his cage, and McQueen back in his familiar black flight suit.

"Sir?" he asked, seeing Ross poring over some papers.

"They're sending us to get repairs," Ross said without looking up.

"And that's a problem, sir?" McQueen asked.

"To Mir."

"Ah. That place is still running? It's as bad as its namesake was. I'm surprised it hasn't fallen apart yet," McQueen commented.

"They've upgraded it. Apparently it's far more... 'swanky', I believe the term used was," Ross grinned. "I thought we could let the crew have a little R&R while we're there. We will be there for some considerable time, after all. Three weeks, at least, while they fix the hull and replace the cannons. Apparently it has shops, restaurants and bars…."

"Hookers too, no doubt," McQueen said scornfully.

"Now, now, Ty. There was a time when you wouldn't have said no."

"I was young and didn't know any better," he frowned, not happy about being reminded.

"No, Ty. You were young and didn't have anyone else, like a lot of the crew on this ship. You're just feeling jealous because you wish Dylan were there," Ross winked at him.

McQueen flushed. "No, I am not!" he snapped. "Sir."

"So why are you blushing? I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen you blush, and all of them have involved Dylan," Ross laughed. "Hell, man, if you were natural born you'd have been beating them off with sticks." He shook his head, laughing still. "It's a tragedy, that's what it is. A tragedy."

"So who's taking over from us out here?" McQueen asked, trying to change the subject. "The Colin Powell again?"

"Yes. You know full well they rotate us, the two best ships in the fleet," Ross said proudly.

"That we are, sir," McQueen smiled. "That we are."

The sessions were going well. All four men had relaxed into it when they found that Dill wasn't at all judgemental of them, and after two weeks they were getting on famously with the children, too.

"Amus?" Hamish asked as they sat together at a table rolling play dough with Cameron and Godfrey.

Amyas looked up. "Yes?"

"You gotta neck like my daddy," the boy said conversationally.

"We've all got necks," Amyas laughed.

"I ain't. Nor's Camrun or Izzy, or Gamma. Not mummy even," he told him.

"Mummy likes daddy's neck. She kisses it!" Cameron chirped up. "It makes him feel all happy."

"Yeah, mummy tickles his neck too," Hamish added nodding. "He says to stop, but she does it more!"

"He likes it really. He says she's a bad mummy, but then he kisses her," Cameron said.

"They's always kissing," Hamish said, shaking his head.

"Is your daddy here?" asked Amyas.

"No, daddy's with Glen. He tells daddy what to do," Hamish offered. "I wish he was 'ere."

"Mummy does too," Cameron said. "And me and Izzy."

Looking around, Amyas saw that Dill was sitting at another table with Talbot and Leopold. They were laughing and talking as Izzy crawled around under the table. He looked at Godfrey, who nodded.

"So boys, tell me. What does your daddy do?" Amyas asked.

Over the last week the four of them had been developing their suspicions, but didn't want to come right out and ask Dill. They'd decided to do it via the boys first. They'd been amazed at the way she completely ignored the fact that they were invitros. No tank comments, no nasty looks when she thought they weren't watching. And to their utter astonishment, she had no hesitation in touching them. It might only be a hand on their shoulder or arm, or perhaps resting on their back as she peered over a shoulder looking at a drawing or a painting, but it was still touch. Something which as invitros they received very little of. And they were unused to natural borns touching them so freely.

Hamish's face glowed with delight. "My daddy can do anyfing! He puts the trains togever. He roweded us in my boat…."

"He knows how to make a camp in the trees!" Cameron grinned. "And he can do fast running too!"

"A pirate camp!" Hamish chuckled. "He's the bestest daddy. 'Cept he has to go away." Now Hamish's face fell. His lip trembled. "I wan' my daddy," he whispered.

Dill looked up, her maternal senses on hyper drive. Coming over to him, she picked him up and cuddled him.

"What's the matter, my lover?" she asked as he buried his face in her neck and sobbed.

"He wants daddy," Cameron told her sadly.

"Oh, sweetie," Dill cooed. "It's hard, my lover, I know. But soon you'll get a letter from him, and perhaps a new toy."

"I wanna cuddle wiv my daddy," Hamish sobbed.

"So do I, sweetie. So do I," Dill muttered as she rocked him in her arms. "Shush now, darling. Daddy's going to do his best to come see us. You know that. If he could be here with his little guys, he would. He misses you too."

"Dylan?" Amyas asked shyly.

She swung around to look at him. "Yes?"

"Your husband... what does he do?" He looked away quickly. "Sorry. It's none of my business."

"That's okay," she smiled at him. "He's a soldier, fighting this damn war, just like you guys."

"He's a colonel! " Cameron announced proudly. "But he's a commodore at home with mummy." The young boy looked confused. "Is a colonel good?"

Godfrey laughed. "Yeah, a colonel's a good thing to be. Better than us grunts anyway."

"So what is he? Army? Air Force?" Amyas asked.

"Oh my, no!" Dill laughed. "He's a Marine. A life taker, and a heart breaker!"

"Where's he stationed?" Amyas pushed.

Before Dill could answer there came a wail, as Izzy fell over and banged her head. Putting the now calm Hamish down, she went to pick up Izzy and soothe her.

"Daddy's on the 'Toga," Cameron answered for her. "With Glen. Glen's a commodore. He tells daddy what to do. He could tell daddy to come home."

"But we's not at home," Hamish said softly. "We's here. Wot if daddy goes home an' we ain't there?"

"Gamma sent him a message, silly!" Cameron told him. "I heard Gamma telling mummy."

"Daddy will know we's here?" Hamish's face brightened.

"Yup," Cameron nodded.

"Okay everyone," Dill announced. "That's it for today. I was thinking that maybe tomorrow we could do something messy. Any preferences? How about a little finger painting?"

There was a general murmur of assent as the four invitros helped her tidy the room before saying goodbye and heading off.

"Come on, my lovers," she grinned at the boys. "I know you've been getting bored, so I've got a surprise for you. I booked you a session in a real space room, so you can float as if you're out in space… or you can fly like superman. It's called a zero gravity chamber. Once you've done that, we'll go get some dinner, and then you can watch a film while I put Izzy to bed. Deal?"

The boys grinned at her.

"Real floating, mummy?" Cameron asked.

"Like superman?" Hamish's eyes were wide.

"Uh huh," she nodded. "Come on, let's go. And hold hands!" she yelled at them as they ran out of the door.

McQueen had had a trying day. It'd started in the officers mess. Hawkes had asked if he could sit with him while he ate breakfast, and had then proceeded to chatter endlessly about the 'miracle' of Stirrup's funeral. Eventually, hoping desperately that Hawkes wasn't going to start yelling hallelujah or tell him that he'd found God, McQueen had ordered him to use the space net to investigate how to look after hamsters, telling him that they hibernated. The temperature drop they'd all had to endure had affected Stirrup and made him go into hibernation. He wasn't dead at all, just asleep. It had been no miracle, just a natural reaction to the increase in temperature. He'd left Hawkes sitting open mouthed as he stormed away.

He'd gone back to his quarters to find the little fur ball had escaped again. After a long laborious search he had found it in his footlocker, chewing on his Angry Angels beret, which now had a rather tattered and torn edge. Whilst putting it back in its cage, he'd noticed its little chest heaving rather more labouredly than usual, and checking the printout he'd got from the space net, had convinced himself the damn thing had pneumonia. He was halfway to sickbay with it when he realised that it would be ship wide knowledge in less than five mikes if he walked in and asked the doc to take a look, and so, changing into civvies, he'd hitched a lift down to Mir with a transport taking crew for their R&R, and 'Hamish Mackenzie' had taken his hamster to the doc there. The doc had raised his eyebrows, but admitted that his children kept them and he knew about them. He'd asked McQueen a few questions, x-rayed Stirrup to make sure he hadn't broken anything, checked his cheek pouches for impacted food and listened to him breathing. He finally declared him fit and charged McQueen $50 for the privilege.

On his arrival back on the 'Toga, Ross had been waiting for him with a stern look on his face.

"Colonel McQueen, it has come to my knowledge that whilst you have scheduled R&R on the space station Mir for the rest of your squad, you have not done so for yourself."

"Commodore, sir," McQueen had said. "I have no desire to spend any time on Mir. There's nothing there that interests me, sir."

"And yet, colonel, I have a report that you did indeed go down to Mir today, whilst you were supposed to be on duty. And I can see for myself, colonel, that not only are you returning from said trip, but that you are out of uniform. Would you care to explain your actions?"

McQueen squirmed. Ross quirked a grin at seeing him so uncomfortable.

"Sir, I would be glad to explain, sir. Somewhere more private."

Looking at the box in McQueen's hands, Ross'd nodded. "My office, colonel, in ten mikes, and be sure to be properly attired."

"Yes, sir. Ten mikes, sir." McQueen'd snapped off a sharp salute and headed for his quarters.

He'd installed Stirrup back in his cage, changed into his flight suit, and gone to see Ross, to be laughed at for his explanation and ordered down to Mir for forty eight hours R&R. Ross had already booked him a room.

So here he was, sitting in a bar having a beer for want of anything else to do. He'd brought some gym gear with him, his plan being to use the gym, have a swim, eat dinner and go to bed. The station had nothing else to offer him. There were some shops so he'd bought a few gifts for his children. Nothing for Dill though. He wanted to buy her something nice.

His mind was occupied with what he could buy for Dill, and he didn't notice when someone sat next to him.

"Buy a girl a drink?"

He looked up into the green eyes of a tall, slim blonde smiling at him.

"I'm married," he told her, turning back to his beer.

"And your wife, is she here? Because I don't see her," came the reply.

"I'm not interested," he said plainly.

"What, a good looking man like you? Miles from the loving bosom of his wife? It's lonely out here, soldier. We all need a little comfort."

He turned to look at her. "I'm a tank. Now go away and leave me alone."

He felt her hand on his neck, her fingers gently stroke his navel, and he shrugged her off, glaring at her.

"A tank, huh? Just what I need. A nice, strong tank who knows exactly how to show a girl a good time, all night long. It's been a long time since I rode a nice one like you. I'm sure I could help you feel better... relieve a little of that tension."

"Just what is it you don't understand?" McQueen snapped. "The fact that I'm married, or that I'm not interested?"

"Oh, come on now, don't be shy. You're a tank, with everything that goes with it. I'm offering you the chance to really let go, no holds barred, to do all those things the little wife back at home won't let you do. You know what I mean, don't you?" She smiled. "She's afraid you might hurt her, being so big… and so strong. Such a waste of a damn fine body. Let's put it to the test. Let's see just how far you can go."

"I know how far you can go," he told her, his voice icy with anger. "You can go as far as the next airlock and shoot yourself out it, or I'll do it for you! Now get out of my face and leave me alone!" He stood, his whole body quivering with rage, and grabbing his bag, marched out the door and headed for the gym, determined to work it out there.

Dill and the children were heading back to their quarters. The children had thoroughly enjoyed themselves in the zero gravity chamber, and Dill hoped they'd worn themselves out. Rather than expect them to sit nicely in one of the restaurants, Dill had picked up pizza for them and promised the boys they could eat it in front of the vid screen, a rare treat indeed.

As they walked past the gym, Hamish stopped. He turned to the door, sniffing.

"Daddy's here!" he cried excitedly. "I can smell him!"

"Darling, I'm sure there are plenty of people in there who smell of hammerhead fuel, but daddy's not in there, my lover," Dill told him, a hand on his shoulder gently guiding him away. "Come on now, let's go eat our pizza before it gets cold."

"No mummy, it smells like daddy. My daddy!" Hamish insisted, before wriggling away from her and running inside.

With an exasperated sigh, Dill followed him, Cameron at her heels, Izzy in her arms.

"Hamish McQueen, just you get your little monkey self back here right now!" she called to his disappearing back.

She caught up with him at the door to the men's changing rooms. Hamish had been grabbed by a security officer and was trying to tell the man that his daddy was in there.

"I wan' my daddy!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. "Daddy!"

"I'm so sorry," Dill told the man, "he's got it fixed in his head, and I can't persuade him otherwise."

"Look lady, he can't go in there, and neither can you. Take your brats and leave."

"There's no need to be so rude," Dill told him. "He's a little boy who thinks his daddy is in there, and he's not harming anyone."

"Except their ears," he growled at her. "Take him and leave. Our clients don't want to have to listen to screaming kids. It's a gym, not a crèche!"

Dill tried to take Hamish's arm. As she juggled Izzy and the pizza, she heard footsteps behind her approaching the door. She reached to grab at Hamish to pull him out of the way, and turned to apologise. Standing in front of her, dressed in sweatpants and a sweat stained tank top, was Ty, his face a picture of shock, his mouth open.

"Daddy!" Hamish flung himself at his father, followed by Cameron.

The boys wrapped themselves around his legs as McQueen fumbled for words.

"Hey, Ty," Dill grinned. "Surprise!"

"Dill?" he finally managed. "What… I mean," Ty reached automatically to ruffle both boys' hair, "what are you doing…."

Ty didn't get a chance to say anything else before Dill was on him. The pizza hit the floor as she wrapped her free arm around his neck and reached up to kiss him. He was overwhelmed as arms wrapped around him. The boys hugged his legs tightly, Dill kissed him ferociously, and he could feel Izzy kissing the side of his face. When Dill finally let him go, he beamed at her.

"I don't know how you're here, but I'm glad you are," he told her. "Let me get cleaned up, and we'll get a replacement pizza and go say hello properly."

"Hurry," Dill told him. "Don't worry about a shower. You can do that later. Just grab your stuff and let's go."

As McQueen disentangled himself from the boys, Dill stood back and looked at him. She was convinced he'd lost weight, but enjoyed the sight of him in his gym clothes, and the way his muscles rippled under the thin damp cotton. 'Control yourself woman,' she told herself. 'Three months is all it's been. You've been apart longer than that before now.'

McQueen prised himself away from the two boys, and went to get his bag. He emerged minutes later and allowed himself to be led by the boys, one on each hand, to the quarters they had. He looked around and whistled.

"Wow, Dill, this is amazing. How'd you get them to give you such large quarters?" He frowned at her. "Your money's come through? I forgot you have money."

"Ty, don't be like that. We talked about it, didn't we? It's our money, for my husband and me. But no, I'm not paying for these. The military is. I told them I had specific requirements, and I wouldn't work for them unless they met them. They obviously wanted me badly, because they met them all without a murmur." She looked at him, confused. "But you know this, surely? You got my letter? Mother's message?"

"I haven't had any mail at all from you since I got back," he told her.

"But I've sent it, at least a half dozen packages," Dill answered.

"Daddy, come and play." Hamish was tugging at his hand.

"Go be with the children. I'll go get us more pizza," she smiled. "We can talk about this later."

"Okay," he smiled, as the boys pulled him down onto the floor to wrestle.

Dill stood at the door, watching him with the children... watching the way his body moved so smoothly and fluidly as he moved to grab the children and swing them up into the air. Smiling that this gorgeous man was hers, she went for pizza, telling herself again that it had only been three months. This wave of raw lust was ridiculous, though she felt good that after six years he still had that effect on her.

When she got back, he was sat on the sofa with the boys. "Where's Izzy?" she asked.

"In bed. She passed right out in my arms. I figured it was better to put her to bed than to keep her up for food," Ty smiled. "Was that okay?"

"Of course it was," Dill nodded. "Now which of my boys wants pizza?"

All three of them jumped up from the sofa and came over to get some. She noticed that Ty'd pulled on a clean, fresh shirt as he reached past her for a napkin for Hamish.

"Here, little guy - wipe your hands and mouth on that, not on your clothes," he told him.

"Yes, daddy," the little boy grinned. "I knowed you was there, daddy. I smelled you."

"You knew I was there, and you smelt me," Ty corrected him automatically, before taking a huge bite out of his slice of pizza.

Dill just sat, her chin in her hands, watching his interaction with the boys. There was no reticence from either of them, and it was as though they'd last seen him only that morning. Ty glanced up at her. The look on her face made him look away from her, embarrassed by the look of lust he saw. But seconds later he glanced quickly at her, surprised at how turned on he was by the fact that she so openly showed how much she wanted him. It made him feel ever so slightly nervous. She had a distinct predatory air to her, and whilst it turned him on, it also scared him witless, as he wondered just what exactly she had in mind.

Watching him as he slowly dried himself, Dill almost drooled at the sight of his not quite so pale body. She smiled as she saw the paler lines of his buttocks. No matter how hard she'd tried, she hadn't managed to persuade him nude sunbathing was a good idea. She still couldn't believe the effect he was having on her. Dill smiled at him and went for a quick shower. She'd only just managed to stop herself climbing in with Ty when he had his. She knew if she did, she would never have been able to keep her hands off him, and from the way he'd been acting since he'd put the boys to bed, she could tell that he was as nervous as he had been the first time they'd made love.

When she came out ten minutes later Ty was curled up in the bed, his arm wrapped around a pillow as he snored softly into it. Dropping her towel onto a chair, Dill slid in next to him and pulled him to her. With a soft moan of pleasure Ty snuggled to her, his head resting on her breast and an arm reaching across her hips. He didn't though wake up. Sighing, Dill kissed his head and saw the resultant smile. Just that, she thought. That small sleeping smile. That alone was enough to feed her love for him.

TY woke to the feeling of Dill's hands on him, her fingers gently tracing the scars on his chest. He gasped as he felt her tongue softly licking them, laving at his nipples, as her other hand stroked his smooth, flat abdomen.

"Awake at last," she whispered against his chest, turning her head to look at him. "I thought you'd never wake up, you sleepyhead."

"So you decided to take advantage of me in my sleep?" Ty smiled.

"I'm afraid I just couldn't control myself any longer," she sighed, returning her mouth to his nipple, nipping and sucking on it.

Ty lay there smiling, feeling his body responding to Dill as his hands stroked her back and gently kneaded her shoulders. She slowly worked her way down his body, licking and kissing, her fingers tracing patterns on his skin, on his abdomen, and on his thighs. Giggling, she felt him quiver in anticipation of each fresh lick and kiss. Her tongue worked its way through his soft curling hair to the hard aching cock.

McQueen gasped, and his hips bucked, as she sucked him into her mouth, releasing him inch by inch until Dill held only the tip still in her mouth. Her tongue began to lick across it, to dip in and out of the slit. Her lips firmly clamped around him, she started to suck, one hand reaching to stroke and gently knead his testicles as the other held his cock firmly while she sucked him.

As she sucked harder Ty's hips began to move and to thrust upwards, desperate to feel more of himself in her hot warm mouth. Dill moved her hand from his cock, and relaxing her throat, took his whole length. Her hands reaching to hold him down to stop him thrusting, she shifted herself so that her body weight held him, and very gently she inserted a finger into him, smiling as she felt rather than saw his reaction. Waiting for him to relax, Dill sucked him harder, her curls bobbing as her head moved. Slowly a second finger joined the first, and she very gently began to thrust, searching for his prostate, knowing that if she could relax him enough he'd buck himself right off the bed. She knew she'd found it when Ty cried out and grabbed her head, holding it steady as he fucked her mouth. Using her free hand, Dill pried his hands from her and held them against her breasts. By the time he came, he was twisting underneath her, mumbling incoherently and gripping the sheets so tightly she was afraid he'd rip them. She sucked him dry, and began to kiss her way back up his body, her hands stroking his still trembling form, whispering soft soothing words to him as she reached his face.

Dill lay on top of McQueen, one hand in his hair gently stroking his head as the other ran up and down his side, stroking, kneading, and just wanting to feel his body. She kissed him, her tongue tasting his lips, his gums, his teeth, twining with his tongue, sucking him back into her mouth, only pausing to allow him to breathe. Her kisses trailed down his throat and up the side of his face, kissing his ears as her finger traced their outline. Her mouth moved to his forehead, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his chin, before finally back to his mouth.

Underneath her Ty moved, pushing his hips against hers. Dill'd trapped his cock against her own pubic hair, and the feel of it rubbing against him was making him harden again. His hands moved to her hips, readying to position her over him, to thrust himself deep inside her. Instead he felt her pulling him onto his side, a leg hooking across his buttocks and thighs, pulling him in close as she began to rub herself against him. Her arms wrapped around him, as close as she could get him, while her kisses still ranged over his face and neck. Ty's arms reached to stroke Dill's back, his fingers dancing across her skin and down to her buttocks. She moved one arm, catching his hand and bringing it between them, before once again wrapping around him, trapping his hand between them as she rubbed against him faster and faster, until he could hold back no more. The feeling was too intense for him and he let go, realising at last that tonight Dill was in charge. If she wanted him to just relax and let her work, he would. He called her name as he came, feeling his hot semen spilling onto both their stomachs.

Dill gently laid Ty down onto his back, giving him a final kiss, and once again worked her way down his body, licking him clean as she did so. He watched as she wiped his semen from her own abdomen and brought it to her mouth. She did it again, but this time her fingers came to his mouth. He sucked on them eagerly, desperate to show her how much he wanted her. Then it hit him; so far she'd managed to make him feel very good, but he hadn't been inside her. He wondered if that was to do with the whole argument they'd had about protection. For a moment he was horrified to think that she might never allow him to make love to her again. But then he saw the look in her eyes, and all such fears faded.

Dill softly stroked Ty's whole body, gently kneading any tenseness she found, until despite the fact that he'd come twice already, he was rock hard and twitching for her. With a smile, she climbed onto him, positioned herself, and slid down his length. His hands came to hold her hips as she began to ride him, sliding herself upwards and down again far more forcefully, until he was thrusting up into her as hard as he could as she slapped her body down onto his, both of them groaning with pleasure. McQueen smiled as he felt Dill's body tense, and his hand slipped to rub at her swollen clitoris, making her cry out as she pounded herself down onto him. He knew she was close. He was close too, but he held on until he knew she was there. Her body arched as she cried out, and she fell forwards onto his chest, his arms reaching to grab her and hold her upright as his hips thrust relentlessly into her until he, too, came, almost passing out from the intensity of it.

They lay, him on his back with her head on his chest, while Dill yet again began to gently run her hands up and down his body, tickling gently, fondling his hips and his thighs, before coming up to stroke his chest and tweak his nipples.

"You can't keep your hands off me, can you?" Ty chuckled.

"Nope," Dill smiled. "I just need to be touching you. I love the way you feel... the way your body feels under my hands. Your muscles all hard and firm, quivering under your skin. It feels... well, it just feels so good." She winked at him. "It turns me on no end."

He bent his head to kiss her. "I'm glad I still turn you on," he whispered, "because you definitely turn me on big time."

Dill's hand slipped to his groin. "Oh, I can feel that," she laughed. "Come on, flyboy. Don't just lie there like a sack of potatoes. Show me just how much."

"Yes, Dill," Ty chuckled, rolling her onto her back and starting to kiss his way down her body, eager to pleasure her - to taste her.

He looked up confused, as her hands reached to pull him back up. "No," she said firmly. "That's not what I want. You, inside me, now. That's what I want."

Ty kissed his way back up to Dill's face. Positioning himself at her hot, slick entrance, with one hard thrust he was inside her, waiting for her to tell him to go on. He grinned as she nodded.

"Hard, Ty. Hard and fast. No fannying around. I want you to let go. No holding back," Dill told him, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"My pleasure," he whispered, burying his head in her neck, gripping her shoulders, and pumping into her. Slowly he built to a fast and furious pace that he knew would have hurt his first wife Amy, but which he knew Dill loved, an advantage of her being half invitro.

"Oh, come on, Ty. You're not really trying, are you?" Dill teased. "I can hardly feel you."

He increased the pace, slamming his body into hers so hard he was sure she'd have bruises in the morning.

"That's better," she cried. "I knew you were holding back!"

"You're going to kill me!" Ty gasped as he felt his orgasm approaching. "I sure hope you're coming, because I am, and I don't know if I can hold it."

His reply was her body arching against him, her muscles clenching around his pounding cock, as she bit down on his shoulder, crying out as she did so. He let himself go and with three more powerful thrusts he collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe. Ty felt Dill's arms around him as he closed his eyes and let himself drift.

Coming to, Ty was on his back again. He could feel Dill's hands massaging him. "Don't you ever stop?" he asked softly.

She looked at him. "Why would I want to? I haven't had enough of you yet. I need more."

"More?" he shook his head. "I don't know if I can, Dill. I'm wiped out."

"You can do it. You know you can," she smiled. "Where's that famous invitro stamina? And after all," she leaned close to whisper in his ear, "you were designed for this. Let's see just how far you can go."

McQueen lay back and looked at her. When exactly had his wife turned into a sex maniac, he wondered. He gasped, feeling her hand on his cock. "There is no way in hell, Dill, you're going to get a response."

"Wanna bet?" she smiled. "Feels like you're hardening up nicely to me."

"I can't, Dill, please," Ty pleaded.

"Oh, come on marine. Just once more, for me," Dill pouted.

He gave in. "Where do you want me?"

"On your knees," she giggled, kneeling down on all fours in front of him.

"I'm warning you this might be real quick, or it might not happen at all," Ty said, positioning himself, ready to slide inside her.

"Just do it and stop thinking about it!" she snapped. "Fuck me, Ty, and fuck me good!"

"Oh God, that feels good." he moaned, as he pushed himself deeply into her.

"See?" she giggled. "Now fuck me nice and hard."

"Yes ma'am." Reaching to lift her up to him, Ty began to thrust, building to a rhythm that had them both gasping as they came. He let Dill drop to the bed and collapsed next to her, gathering her into his arms.

They lay snuggled together in comfortable silence.

"Happy now? Satisfied at last?" he asked.

"Mmm hmm," she mumbled. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," he chuckled. "In fact most of it was my pleasure. Why wouldn't you let me go down on you?"

"Because I needed you. I needed to feel you, to touch you. And I knew when I did get you, I wanted you hard and fast. I didn't want to waste time."

"You...," he began, then stopped. "We didn't use anything. We agreed that we would. Hell, Dill, you agreed!"

"Don't worry, we did," Dill smiled up at him. "I'm not sure if you'll like it, but it's too late. Before I came away I spoke to mother about it."

Ty looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "You spoke to your mother about our sex life?"

"She is a doctor, Ty. Anyway, she sent me out with a couple of contraceptive patches. They last about 3 months each."

"So you were planning on sleeping with someone then?" he asked. Horrified, Ty pulled away from her.

"They're not for me," Dill grinned. "You wanted us to take precautions, so they're for you. I slapped one on your bum while you were sleeping earlier. Of course tonight was a risk - it does say apply twenty-four hours before you intend fucking your husband's socks off, but I couldn't have kept away from you for that long." She looked so apologetic that he laughed out loud.

"It's okay, Dill. I enjoyed it too. It's a risk I'm okay with. And after the war," he pulled her to him and kissed her, "I'll happily give you more kids. You want a whole football team? It'd be my pleasure."

She snuggled in his arms, laughing. "Well, not a whole team. Just maybe a couple more kids."

"Whatever you want," Ty sighed, kissing her hair.

"You don't mind that I made you wear the patch?"

"No, not at all. I know Moira will have checked to make sure it's safe for me. And it was my decision that we should use contraceptives, so I consider it fair."

"I love you, Tyrus Cassius McQueen," Dill smiled.

"I love you too, Dylan McQueen. Now go to sleep."

"Yes, Ty. In a minute," she sighed. "I've missed you so much. Not just the sex, but you. So many times I've found myself cooking you breakfast, or gone halfway to the goat house to ask you something. I miss this, just snuggling... sitting in front of the TV, my head in your lap, as we watch something. Talking to you after the kids have gone to bed. I miss you, Ty. The house feels empty without you. Without hearing you laughing with the children, or chuckling over the cartoon in the newspaper. I miss listening to you while you tell me something I don't understand about specs for the SA 43 or the U 70, or whatever they were. I even miss hearing you yell at me when you're angry."

"It was the U-378, and I miss you too, Dill," Ty told her, hugging her close. "For many of those same reasons. There are some nights when I'd give anything just to have you standing there telling me off."

"I do that a lot, don't I? Sorry," Dill whispered.

"No you don't. Not really," Ty smiled. "Now go to sleep. I'm tired. You've exhausted me. I'll need leave just to recover..." He kissed her smiling face. "I was designed for it! Honestly, Dill, you really are a complete monster. I might think you only wanted me for my body if I didn't know otherwise."

Dill chuckled softly against his chest.


	3. Chapter 3

Small Miracles 3.

Opening his eyes slowly, McQueen wondered where he was. Certainly not in his quarters on the 'Toga. As his mind focussed, he realised he was in bed with someone. Someone who had their hand firmly placed in his crotch. A moment of panic flew through his mind as he remembered the blonde in the bar, the one who'd tried to pick him up. Then the body moved and he smelt the familiar smell of Dill's shampoo as her head nuzzled into his neck and her hand moved over to his hip. His relief was almost palpable. It was Dill. He was on the space station Mir, with Dill. His Dill, and the children.

As he lay there, Ty's mind wandered over the events of the night before. He smiled at the memory of Dill so obviously lusting after him. After that woman in the bar, he'd spent two hours working in the gym, trying to rid himself of the idea that even Dill only wanted him for his body, for the fact that as a tank 'everyone' knew he was good in bed. That he had increased stamina and could 'go all night'. It had been the knowledge that Dill hadn't known what a tank was, had never heard the talk and had no preconceptions when they'd first met, that had helped him see sense. Of course seeing her positively drooling at the sight of him in his gym clothes had almost made him change his mind, but after their lovemaking, when she'd told him how much she missed him, he'd felt safe, knowing that she loved him for much more than just his body.

They might not have the same tastes in lots of things. Ty couldn't stand what Dill called music any more than she could stand to listen to much of what he liked. She thought his reading was 'stodgy' and 'boring' and far too militaristic, while he found her choice of books far too light in general. But that was what kept them both going while they were apart. They had interests outside of each other.

Whilst home on one leave Ty'd read one of Dill's favourite books and had been horrified to find it was from a child's point of view. They'd sat in bed for hours discussing it. Dill pointed out to him that it was about far more than just children. It was about prejudice and society's attitudes. He'd argued that the book was too old to have any valid meaning after over a hundred years. Dill had simply looked at him and said 'imagine Tom Robinson as an invitro'. That had made him re-evaluate the book, and then he'd teased her relentlessly that one of the children in the book was named Dill. She'd merely shaken her head and called him a child before attacking him with a pillow.

Ty chuckled to himself as he reached to pull Dill closer to him. He never wanted to let go of her again. She was here just when he needed her, and that got him thinking again. What was she doing here with the children? She'd said something about a letter, a message from Moira. He sat up, flinging Dill off him.

"Dill! Dill!" Ty shook her awake. "You said you were working for the military. What are you doing? Why'd you bring the kids into a war zone?"

"What?" Dill sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What are you ranting about?"

"Ranting? You brought my kids into a war zone, Dill. What the hell were you thinking? Why didn't you speak to me first?"

"I tried. I sent you a letter. I asked them to arrange a live link to the 'Toga, but you were too far away. Mother was going to pull a few strings to get a priority message to you." She looked at him, her face a picture of confusion.

"Well, I didn't get a thing. I've had nothing from you since I got back from leave," he told her.

"That's not my fault, Ty. I tried and they needed to know. I had three weeks to decide and no way to get hold of you. So I sent you a letter and hoped you wouldn't get too angry. They asked for me specifically, Ty, and it's for six months. I couldn't leave the children for that long. I had to bring them with me. They're enjoying themselves. So far at least, it's an adventure for them."

"You told me you didn't have time to work!" Ty accused her. "You know I want you home with my children. They need their mom. They don't have me, so they need you!"

"Which is why I brought them with me," Dill countered. "They asked me to do the play sessions again. The children are enjoying it. I have four guys that the kids really like, and they have a great time painting, getting messy. Even just talking to them. It's doing them all good." She smiled. "I think that the guys, or Amyas at least, has worked out who you are. I heard Hamish telling him you had a neck like his, and then he asked about you... what you did. So far I think they know my husband is an invitro, thanks to Hamish, a colonel, thanks to Cameron, and a marine, thanks to me. Today I expect Amyas'll have put two and two together."

"You have a session today?" he asked. "For how long? I really don't like this, Dill. I don't like you and the kids being here. It's not safe!"

"Two hours this afternoon, that's all. Why isn't it safe? I was told this place is such a long way behind the frontlines that I had nothing at all to worry about." Dill looked at him, studying his face carefully. "You're jealous! You think that because we got together through these sessions, I'll do the same with someone else! What the hell do you take me for?" She got out of bed, looking for a robe. "Bloody hell, Ty, it never changes, does it? You're still waiting for me to tell you it was all a big mistake!" She stormed out of the room, pulling her robe tightly around her.

McQueen lay back with a frustrated sigh. He was doing it again. 'One night,' he thought, 'one damn night. That's all it takes'. He got out of bed, and pulling on his sweatpants, went to find her.

She was sitting on a sofa, her knees pulled up to her chin, her dark curls falling over her face. He knew even without looking that she was crying.

"Dill," Ty said softly, sitting beside her and taking her in his arms, "I'm not jealous. After last night, how can I be? If that wasn't you claiming me as yours, I don't know what would be. I'm just worried about you and the children. No place out here is guaranteed safe. I worry about you guys when you're at home. Knowing you're here... well," he shook his head, "I'm just gonna worry more. If I'd got your message I would have asked you not to do it. For selfish reasons, I know, but I would still have asked you not to."

"I knew you would be angry," Dill whispered into his chest. "That you'd say no."

"So why did you do it then?" he asked, puzzled. "Not that what I say should make a difference, but if you felt like that, why?"

"Of course your opinion counts. You're the man I love. The father of my children. And if you'd said 'no, don't take our children there', I'd have listened," she told him, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robe.

"So why did you?"

"Honestly?" she asked.

"Always."

"Because I thought that we'd be nearer to you. And once you knew where we were, it might be easier for you to come and see us when you got leave. I know you do get leave that you don't take because you can't get home and back in time." At his raised eyebrow, Dill smiled. "Iona told me. She's found out an awful lot of things from Cooper that she won't tell me. She says if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me yourself. What things, Ty? What haven't you told me?"

He shrugged. "I really have no idea, but you know what Hawkes is like. It could be anything from the fact that he comes to talk to me about how he feels about Iona, to how I shouted at him for cocking up."

"Why don't you take your leave Ty?" Dill asked, her voice low.

"Like you said, what good is 48 hours R&R if I can't get home to you?" Ty kissed her head.

"But you're here. You have leave now."

"Only because Glen ordered me to, and he booked me a room overnight. Otherwise I hadn't planned on being here at all."

"I'm glad he did. I really must thank him," Dill smiled.

"We're going to be here for a few weeks, so I can come and see you when I'm off duty. Maybe not everyday, but I'm sure when I tell Glen you're here he'll be happy to let me come."

Dill turned in his arms. "We should invite him to dinner. I have a kitchenette here. Another thing I insisted upon. He hasn't seen the children or me since Izzy was born. I'd like to say hello to him. I like him, lots."

"I think he'd like that because I know he likes you." McQueen smiled, bending his head to kiss her.

"Colonel McQueen?"

"Yes?"

"Take me to bed?"

"My pleasure." He picked her up and carried her back to bed. This time he was going to be in charge.

The children were awake.

"Mish! Mish! Out!" Izzy demanded from her cot.

Hamish sighed, and glared at her. "If I gets you out, you gotta stay here wiv us. No running ter see daddy," he told her sternly.

"Why?" Cameron asked.

"They's making noises," Hamish told him. "I don' fink they's hurting each uver. I fink they's happy noises. Mummy's saying yes and daddy's saying…" he tilted his head to the side, listening. "Daddy says he's coming."

Cameron looked at him and closed his eyes. "Daddy's happy," he said after a minute. "So's mummy. They're making each other happy." He turned to Izzy. "Stay there, Izzy. Daddy'll come get us in a minute."

"Daddy! "Izzy yelled angrily. If her Hamish wouldn't get her out, she knew someone who would. "Daddy!"

Dill lay snug in Ty's arms, happily content now that he'd claimed her for his own, as he'd put it when he threw her on the bed. She was his, and he was going to prove it. She felt him shift and settle her more comfortably against him.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too Dill," he murmured sleepily.

Dill lifted her head to smile at him, and the sound of Izzy calling came to her. She saw Ty smile and again he shifted, this time to move away from her.

"Sorry, Dill, the other woman in my life is calling for me. I'd better go see what she wants."

"I know exactly what she'll want," Dill chuckled. "To be held in those strong arms, nestled against that lovely chest, and snuggled in bed."

"Just like her mother," Ty laughed, as he pulled on a clean pair of boxers.

"Are you still wearing those damn khaki things? I'm going to buy you some different ones while you're here. Those are awful," she grimaced.

"No more black silk, thank you!" Ty retorted. "They feel kinda funny. Too loose." He bent down to kiss her. "I liked the t-shirt though. Did you bring that outfit with you?"

"Actually, yes," Dill blushed. "Just in case."

"Oh good," he winked as he left the room.

Going into the children's room, Ty smiled as he saw them. The boys were sitting together on one bed looking at a picture book, while Izzy stood in her cot, shouting at them. The moment she saw her father, she turned on a full beam smile and practically cooed at him.

"Hey boys," he smiled. "Who's for cuddles in bed with me and mommy?"

They almost leapt from the bed, and smiling, ran from the room while he picked up Izzy.

"Pooh, Izzy, you stink!" Ty chuckled. "Let's clean you up before you get in bed with us." He held her up at arms length as she chuckled at him.

"Spooge," she giggled. "Daddy spooge."

"Oh yeah, daddy gets the spooge again," he smiled, holding her close and kissing her. He chuckled as she rubbed her face on his stubble and laughed, kissing his cheek and licking him. "Are you hungry? Guess you are. You fell asleep before you ate, didn't you? Can't eat me, my girly girl. Come on, let's clean you up and feed you."

When he and Izzy climbed into bed with Dill and the boys, he was smothered in children. Both boys were desperate for his attention and his cuddles.

Dill laughed. "I think I'll leave you guys here while I see to breakfast. Now careful, boys. Be gentle with daddy, he's a bit tired." Chuckling, she left him desperately trying to sort them out so that they all got a cuddle.

Later that day, Ty was busily engrossed with the boys in running the train track around the room Dill used for her play sessions, Dill having decided she needed to do a little shopping with Izzy before the session started.

"Under the table, guys, or over it?" he asked them, on his hands and knees with a pile of track in front of him.

"Under, daddy. We can go over the next table," Cameron told him.

"Okay," McQueen told him. Crawling under the table, he turned to grin at the boys. "But if mommy comes in, don't you let her kick my butt."

Both boys giggled, Cameron covering his mouth with his hand. "Daddy, you're so silly!"

"No I'm not. I know how bad that mommy is. If she sees my butt poking out, she'll kick it!" he chuckled.

"Mummy loves you. She won't kick your butt," Cameron giggled.

"Oh yes she will!" McQueen carried on, seeing how much it made the boys laugh. "That mommy, she's so bad to me!"

"No daddy!" Hamish laughed. "You's bad to her!"

McQueen's face appeared from under the table feigning innocence. "Me? I'm bad to her? Never! I do whatever she tells me."

"You're so silly!" Hamish giggled, launching himself at his father. "I loves you, daddy."

"I know you do, little guy. And I loves you too." He looked over at Cameron. "Come on then, monkey boy. I loves you too. Come and have a cuddle."

McQueen was on the floor, the boys on top of him, when Amyas, Talbot, Leopold and Godfrey arrived. They stood in the doorway and stared as McQueen, unaware of them, rolled over on top of the boys.

"Okay you two, I'm gonna squidgey you right up, and then I'm gonna eat you!" he laughed, pulling up Cameron's shirt to blow a raspberry on his stomach as the little boy fought him off, laughing uncontrollably.

Hamish rolled away and jumped onto his back. "Can't get me!" he giggled.

"Oh, can't I?" McQueen reached around and grabbed him. He was in the process of pulling Hamish bodily over his shoulder when he realised he was being watched.

McQueen stopped, embarrassed at being caught playing so openly with his boys in front of strangers. He pulled Hamish over and sat him on the floor. Standing up, he brushed himself down, aware that he was in his flight suit and it was obvious whom he was. Not expecting to stay on the station any longer than he had to, all he'd brought with him had been his gym clothes and clean underwear for the next day. Now he wished he'd packed jeans and a shirt.

"Dill'll be here in a minute," he said into the awkward silence. "Why don't you guys sit down and I'll take the little guys and go."

"It's my daddy," Hamish told Amyas proudly. "He's building us a train track."

McQueen felt like he was being examined under a microscope, the way the four men looked at him. It was a feeling that he was sadly familiar with.

"Come on guys, let's go," he said, turning to the boys.

"No, daddy, we gotta finish the track!" Hamish told him. "Please daddy?" He hung onto McQueen's hand desperately.

Ty looked at Cameron, who nodded. "Please, daddy? You make such good train tracks."

He crouched down. "Look, guys, mommy's gotta do her thing with these guys here. We need to go and let them get on with it."

"Colonel McQueen?" It was Amyas. He held out a hand. "I'm Amyas Smith. I just wanted to say, well, to say that your wife is really terrific. We all think she's great. And the kids are, too. You can stay if you want. The kids are here anyway, during the session. We know how much they love the train track, and they tell us non stop how good you are at setting it out." He glanced around the room. "We can see that for ourselves."

"I'm glad you like it." McQueen shook his hand.

"Come on, daddy!" Hamish said, impatiently tugging at his leg. "Let's finish it so's we can get the trains out and play wiv em!"

"Play with them," McQueen automatically corrected him. He glanced at Amyas. "Someone has to teach the boy to speak properly."

Amyas smiled as the others behind him finally spread out and found somewhere train free to sit. McQueen braced himself. He had the strangest feeling that he was about to be jumped in front of his kids, and he sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for them. 'Please, Dill, hurry', he thought. 'I don't want the boys to witness this.'

He almost jumped as he felt a hand on him. "They won't hurt you, daddy. There's no need to be scared." Looking down, he saw it was Cameron.

"I'm not scared, Cameron." Ty looked around at the four in vitros staring at him. "These... gentleman have no intentions of hurting me."

"You're fibbing, daddy," Cameron told him, fixing him with a McQueen glare. "McQueen's don't lie!"

Amyas looked astounded. "I'm sorry if we gave you that impression, Colonel McQueen, but...," he looked at the others. All wore shocked expressions. "I mean, you're Dylan's husband. Why would we want to hurt you?"

"I'm a tank. I married a natural born. It's a common enough reason." McQueen stared at them, feeling ashamed of himself. He'd completely misread the situation. "Even for other tanks."

"Well, not for us. We were really excited when we worked out that the boys' father was you. You're probably the most famous tank around." Amyas's face glowed with excitement. "Did you really take out that Chiggy von Richtofen single handedly?"

McQueen relaxed a little, but still kept a careful eye on them. "That was me."

"Sorry, colonel. We should have known four strange guys walking in on you would make you jumpy. Hell, we've all been there, right?" It was Godfrey. He usually hid in the background, but he'd been shocked to realise McQueen thought they were going to attack him. He looked at Cameron, then at McQueen. "How'd he know that's what you thought?"

"I didn't think it," McQueen told him.

"Yes, you did, daddy. You were scared they'd hurt you." Cameron looked up at him. "You didn't want me and Hamish seeing it."

All four men stared at Cameron, and then at McQueen.

"Daddy, when you gonna finish the damn trains!" Hamish demanded.

McQueen turned to him, relieved at having something to redirect attention. "Excuse me? Finish the what?"

"The trains," Hamish answered sheepishly.

"Come on, daddy," Cameron pulled at him. "Let's do the trains!"

"We'll help," Amyas offered.

When Dill and Izzy arrived ten minutes later, they found the five men sat on chairs, tables and the floor, and the two boys frantic with excitement, as Amyas and McQueen raced trains around the track, trying to crash into each other.

McQueen looked up as they came in, Dill coming to stand behind him, her hands on his shoulders as she bent to kiss his ear. "I see you've met the guys," she whispered.

He turned his head slightly to look at her. "Uh huh. A bit hairy there at first, but they seem okay." He turned back to watch his train forced off the track. "Damn!"

Dill laughed and ruffled Ty's hair. "I think you enjoy the trains more than the boys do." She looked around the room. Izzy had settled herself comfortably in her father's lap, and was busily searching through his hair. "Well, I guess today it's playing with trains. Izzy, stop checking daddy for lice. He doesn't have them."

Izzy smiled up at her. "Soft," she said. "Soft daddy."

"I know, sweetie, it's that lovely short hair. Perhaps I'll join you." She sat next to Ty, and to his horror both Dill and Izzy stroked his hair.

"Will you two stop it!" he grouched. "How'm I supposed to concentrate with you doing that?" He glanced up, and saw Amyas staring at them open mouthed. "What?" he demanded.

"Sorry," Amyas whispered, blushing and looking away.

"Ty!" Dill scolded him. "Don't be so mean."

McQueen scowled.

Dill looked up. The four invitro's were staring. But not so much at him, she thought, but at them... at him and her. She thought for a moment, and realised it was probably because of the way she touched him. Ty was used to it now, but at first he'd been wary, unused to being touched. Another reason why he always ended up laying in her arms at some point, she thought. He loved to be cuddled and cosseted. It made up for the years of lack of human contact. She sighed. She almost felt like hugging them all, but she knew they'd freak out at that.

"What's the matter, guys?" she asked, deciding to make them talk about it.

Amyas just stared at her. She still had her hands on Ty's shoulders.

"You touch him," Talbot whispered. "You touch him, but he's a tank."

"He's my husband. Of course I touch him," she grinned wickedly. "Bit difficult to have kids if we don't touch each other."

All four of the invitros blushed.

"Don't, Dill. It's not fair," Ty said softly. "They get about as much human touch as I did, and you know how jumpy I was."

She looked up at them. "I'm sorry, guys, but I can't help touching him. I do it without thinking. I love him. It's a way of showing him that fact."

Taking a deep breath, McQueen spoke. "I was as jumpy as you guys were when I first met Dill. She kept touching me, putting her hand on my arm or my knee. Even wanting to hold my hand. In public too, not just in private." He smiled up at her. "I'm used to it now. One day, guys, if you're lucky, you'll find someone who's right for you…" His watch beeped. He looked at it. "Damn! I have to go. I'm on duty in 60 mikes, and I'm gonna be late!"

Ty jumped up and kissed the children goodbye, promising to see them soon, and with a quick hug and kiss for Dill, fled out of the door at a run.

The four invitros sat and looked at Dill. She cuddled a crying Izzy on her lap.

"Why's she crying?" Talbot asked.

"She wants her daddy back," Dill told him. "As do these two who're creeping up for cuddles." She wrapped her arms around the boys too.

"But, but he's a tank!" Leopold blurted, the first time Dill had heard him speak without being prompted.

"No, he's not. To them he's their daddy. That's who they see, and that's all they see. Just as I see a man. The man I fell in love with and married. The father of my children. A tank? Oh no, he's much more than that," she told them, "and so could you be one day."

"Yeah, right!" Godfrey muttered.

"You wanted to know why I had a funny name. I'm named after my father, and he's an invitro too. He and my mother met and fell in love. Sadly, they didn't get a happy ending the way Ty and I did, but it does happen. In Ty's squad there's another in vitro. His girlfriend is natural born and she adores him. It won't be long before they announce marriage plans, I'm sure. It happens, guys. Don't lock yourselves away from it. Be open to it. See what happens." Dill looked at the sad, tear stained faces of her children. "If you'll excuse me, guys, I think my children need to go home. They're tired and upset. I'll see you tomorrow. Think about what I've said."

Hoisting Izzy in her arms, she left, Hamish holding her hand and Cameron holding his.

Two days later Dill was getting ready for Ty and Ross's arrival for dinner. The children had been fed, showered, and put in their pyjamas. Dill was allowing them to stay up for a while with the grown ups, and then they were being packed off to bed. Dill herself was shimmying into a dress she'd bought. Ty rarely saw her in a dress and this, she thought, would knock his socks off. It was a simple little dark blue sleeveless velvet dress. Not too figure hugging, but fairly revealing, low cut at the front, and low enough at the back. She had to be careful about the length though. Being small, she'd had to ask them to take it up. Now it sat just above her knees. Dill twirled. Looking at herself in the mirror, she decided she'd do, though maybe the stockings were overdoing it just a bit. After all, it wasn't supposed to be a night of seduction. It was Glen to dinner.

"Mummy?" Hamish stood beside her, his face beaming. "Will daddy tell us a story 'fore we go to bed?"

"Oh, I expect so. He does usually, doesn't he?" Dill smiled. "Where's that Izzy? Is she getting all mucky?"

Hamish grinned. "She's licking the floor."

"Ugh! Why does that sister of yours have such disgusting habits?" Dill said, running out to grab her.

She was bent over picking up Izzy as Ty and Ross walked in.

"Am I glad you have underwear on!" Ty laughed. "Look away Glen."

"A gentleman never embarrasses a lady by letting her know he's noticed her indiscretions," Glen smiled. "My eyes were closed Dylan."

"A gentleman, eh? So not Ty then?" Dill chuckled, slapping McQueen on the arm. "Trust you to see only that, you beast!"

"Could I help it if we walked in and there you were mooning us?" McQueen smiled. He pulled her close, his hand rubbing her bottom, and whispered, "I like it though. Nice panties… and stockings."

"Ty!" Dill blushed. "You're awful, you really are. Stop it and say hello to the children. Introduce them to Glen. In fact, here, have Izzy while I check the dinner." She handed him Izzy, who promptly slapped a wet kiss on his face. "I'm sorry, Glen, he really has no manners. Can I get you a drink? I have rum? Or wine? Whiskey? Take a seat please. I know it's not much, but it's home for the next five months."

"Rum, I think, please," Ross said, sitting down to find himself with a child on either side of him, smiling beatifically.

"'Ello, I'm Hamish. Are you Glen?" Hamish smiled.

"I am indeed," he said gravely, holding out his hand for Hamish to shake. "I'm pleased to meet you. Thank you," he nodded to Dill as she handed him a glass before excusing herself.

Hamish tentatively shook the outstretched hand.

"You tell my daddy what to do," Cameron said sternly. "Tell him to come home."

"I wish I could young man," Ross smiled, "but I'm afraid I can't. You see, I need him far too much."

"We need him more," Cameron told him, "and he wants to come home."

"I'm sorry. But once this war is over he can come home for good, if that's what he wants," Glen offered.

"But we needs him now," Hamish interjected.

"Mummy needs him so she won't be sad. If Izzy had him she wouldn't eat bugs. And Hamish needs him to do wrestling," Cameron told him earnestly.

"And what do you need him for?" Glen asked.

"I just need him," Cameron sighed.

"Camrun needs cuddles all the time," Hamish said disgustedly.

"Guys, leave Glen alone. Let him have his drink before you bully him any more," McQueen told them sternly. "Sorry, Glen. They shouldn't hassle you like that."

Both boys looked at Ty, lips trembling.

"Sorry, daddy," Cameron whispered.

"Sorry," Hamish said softly. Then, tears falling, he flung himself on the floor at McQueen's feet. "Don't smack me, daddy, don't smack me! I'll be a good boy!"

Embarrassed, Ty stepped back quickly. "Hamish, get up and stop being silly!"

Dill chose that moment to walk in. She took one look and took Izzy off McQueen. "Deal with him," she said simply.

Casting an apologetic look at Glen, Ty picked up the crying child and carried him out of the room. They could hear Hamish still begging not to be smacked even after McQueen had shut the door.

"Is he tough with them?" Glen asked, somewhat embarrassed himself. "I can see that he would be."

Dill didn't get a chance to speak. Cameron piped up, "Daddy never smacks us, but Hamish always thinks he will. Daddy loves us too much to smack us. He couldn't smack us no matter how bad we are. He's scared he would hurt us."

Ross looked at him. "From the mouths of babes," he grinned.

"And Ty is now probably worrying that you think he beats his children. He is tough with them, yes, but he'd never lay a finger on them. As Cameron says, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He's a big softy really, and the children take advantage of that fact. Hamish has this obsession that he's going to smack him. He once saw his friend getting a smack and it's rollercoastered from there. Oddly enough, he never thinks I'm going to smack him." Dill sat beside Ross.

Izzy smiled at Glenn before crawling into his lap, her hands reaching to his head. "Izzy," Dill warned.

Izzy gave him a big, wet, sloppy kiss. She stood in his lap and fingered his hair.

"Why do I get the feeling she's looking for something?" Ross chuckled.

"I am so sorry, Glen. Our children seem determined to show us up tonight," Dill apologised.

"I'm being a good boy, mummy," Cameron smiled.

"Yes, my lover, you are," she smiled back at him. "Thank you."

"Can I go and play with my penis?"

Ross laughed out loud.

"Go! Go on," Dill shooed him away, shaking her head. "Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse."

"At least Ty's behaving himself," Ross chuckled.

"Yes, but for how long?" Dill smiled. "Let me take Izzy off you. I'll give her to Ty. He can put them all to bed. I won't be a minute." She carried the still smiling Izzy out of the room.

Ross looked around. He was impressed. Dylan had said 'it's not much', but it must have been one of the best suites of quarters on the station. Ty had told him they'd asked for her specifically, and agreed to her requests instantly, and he was suspicious. He had to agree with Ty. Looking around him, he saw a suite of rooms for a civilian. For a teacher, essentially. Something wasn't quite right somewhere. Ross determined to put out feelers amongst his friends and see if he could find anything out.

Although he didn't know Dylan very well, he liked the effect she'd had on Ty. He smiled to himself. The man was much more at ease and far more comfortable with life in general. A helluva lot less uptight than he had ever been. It was good to see. He'd known McQueen a long time and had watched him develop from a scared and frightened tank into a confident, disciplined marine. And then McQueen had met Dylan, and Ross now realised just how much of it had been a façade, and underneath it all he'd still been that scared and frightened tank. He could see that with Dylan at his side McQueen had come a long way to realising his potential. Not in his military career, as he undoubtedly would have with Amy, but as a man. And as far as Ross was concerned, that was far better.

He looked up as Dill came back into the room, smiling.

"Sorry about that, Glen. Ty won't be long, and as soon as he's done, we'll eat. They actually had a delivery of fresh food yesterday so I have a nice joint of roast beef." She looked worried for a moment. "You do eat beef?" At his nod, she chuckled. "His lordship loves it." Again the worried look. "Is he eating, do you know? I'm sure he's lost weight."

Ross laughed out loud. "Lord, you sound like my mother! Seriously though, Dylan, he's fine. He has times when he's down, but I try and keep him busy." He smiled at her. "You're good for him. Thank you for being The One."

"The One?" Dill asked, puzzled.

"The One," he nodded. "My mother always said that there's The One out there for all of us. It's taken a long time, but Ty's finally found you. You've made a great difference to his life. It was looking for a while there that he was going to be wasted. "

"Wasted? Oh no, I don't think Ty's life could be called wasted," Dill told him, surprised and a little affronted even that he'd imply such a thing.

"That's not what I meant," Ross told her. "He has packed more into twenty years than the rest of us can dream of. I meant him, personally. He has so much to offer, and it was all going to waste because no woman ever looked past the navel on his neck."

"Amy did," Dill countered.

"Look what she did to him," Ross answered. "Look what you've done for him. You've given him much more than just a family. You've given him a sense of home... a sense of truly belonging. You've given him more confidence than either of us knew he lacked…"

"Is this a private conversation, or can anyone join?" McQueen asked from the doorway. "I can go out and come back later if you'd rather."

"Sorry, my lover," Dill said, going to him and wrapping her arms around his waist, reaching up to kiss him. "Why don't you two sit down and I'll bring dinner through."

He kissed her back before answering, "Do you need any help?"

She shook her head. "No, you and Glen sit down. I won't be a moment. Why don't you open the wine?"

They enjoyed their meal, laughing and talking all the way through it. Glen told Dill stories about McQueen that he knew he'd never tell her himself, and Dill giggled and told Ross about incidents at home with and without the children. McQueen retaliated by telling tales about both of them, until eventually they left the table comfortably full and with a glass in their hands.

"I have to say, Dylan, that that meal was wonderful. No wonder greedy gut here is always pining to go home. He misses your cooking," Ross chuckled.

"Who're you calling greedy gut? You had two helpings of roast beef yourself!" McQueen smiled.

"But you had three _and_ you cleared your plate each time."

"What can I say? I was hungry." McQueen looked down at Dill snuggled up close to him. He was hungry for more than just food.

"I like to see him eating," Dill grinned at Ross. "He's far too skinny. Though heaven knows what he'd look like if he was permanently home. A balloon, I should think."

"I still do my morning run, even at home. In fact, it's a really good run, Glen. You should come stay with us next time we get leave together. You and Rhonda."

"Oh definitely," Dill reiterated. "That would be lovely. It'd be nice to see Rhonda again."

Ross looked at his watch. "I'm afraid it's time for me to say goodnight. Thank you for dinner, Dylan, and your excellent company." He smiled. "Next time, it's on me."

He stood and made his way to the door. McQueen stood too. He kissed Dill before starting after Ross.

"And just where do you think you're going?" Ross asked him.

"I'm coming back to the 'Toga with you. I'm on duty at 06:30."

"Ty, if Rhonda was here, looking the way Dylan does right now, I can tell you for sure I would NOT be going back to the 'Toga tonight. I'll see you in the morning at 07:00." Glenn winked at Dill as he left, calling back, "Be gentle with him. He's got a full stomach."

McQueen looked at her. "I'm sorry, Dill. I'd love to stay. You know I would, but…"

"It's okay," she smiled. "Go on, I understand."

She pushed him towards the door and smiled as he hurried to catch up with Ross.

"What the hell are you doing, McQueen?" Ross growled at him when he caught him up. "Get back there to your wife. Don't neglect her, not after she fed you so well."

"Now there's an aspect of marriage no one warned me about. My wife feeds me and I'm expected to take her to bed as a thank you. Hmm... interesting," Ty chuckled.

"No, but when she looks like Dylan did tonight, it's a clue, Ty. A big in-your-face clue that she's willing, if you are," Ross grinned.

"Except I have to be on duty early, and if the kids wake up and find me there, I'll never get back to the 'Toga on time. Even with Dill and the kids here, I still have other responsibilities, Glen."

Ross stopped and stared at him. "Well, she's more understanding than I would be, that's for sure!" He shook his head and began walking again.

Both men were knocked to the floor as the station shook.

"What the hell was that?" Ross demanded, climbing to his feet.

"Felt like a missile attack. But here? We're way beyond the frontlines!" McQueen said as another shock took them off their feet again.

At that point sirens started blaring as an alert was sounded, and over the intercom came a voice calling all Saratoga personnel back to the ship. McQueen picked himself up. His first impulse was to run to his family, to gather them in his arms and keep them safe. To make sure no harm came to them. But as a soldier, a marine, he knew his duty lay on the Saratoga protecting all the occupants of the space station. If he ran for his family now he knew there would be people saying that he'd failed in his duty, and what else could you expect from a tank? That finally he was showing his true colours. He'd worked too damned hard to have it all thrown in his face now. Ty thought about it. If his family weren't here, he'd be on his way to the Saratoga now. That clarified it, and he started off in the direction of the landing bays.

"Ty! Where the hell are you going?" Ross called.

McQueen turned, his face set into a frown. "I'm going back to the Saratoga. If it's chigs, we have work to do. This station needs protecting."

"Your family is here!"

"I can help them more by doing my job properly!" McQueen snapped. "And that means from the bridge of the Saratoga, launching fighters."

Ross looked at his friend's face. He knew the battle going on behind the set jaw and the steely glare. "Well, I'm going back to get your family. I'll feel happier knowing they're with us on the Saratoga. Are you coming or not?"

McQueen floundered. On the one hand, he had a job to do. On the other, he desperately wanted to make sure his family was safe.

"For God's sake, man! Come on! Once we get them on board, we'll go straight to the bridge. But I'll be fretting about them, and so will you, otherwise. And don't even try to pretend you won't be," Ross said.

"We have more lives to worry about than just those four," McQueen said tersely. "Others who are just as important."

Ross grabbed him. "This is your family, Ty. AThe only one you have! They ARE important! Now get into gear and let's go get them!"

McQueen found himself being pulled along by Ross. "Glen, I...," he faltered.

"You what, Ty?" Ross asked as he barrelled down the corridor.

"I don't want anyone accusing me of …." Again, he faltered. "But they're my family, Glen. You're right."

They rounded a corner and could see smoke and sparks flying. This was obviously somewhere that had taken a hit. Both men looked at the scene in front of them. Twisted metal lay everywhere. People were fighting to put out a fire, and Dill's quarters were just down the hallway. As one they sprinted, horrified to see the extent of the damage.

McQueen's heart began to thump wildly in his chest. If this was where the station had been hit... His children had a view port. They looked out at the stars. He ran faster, unaware now of the man at his side, desperate to make sure his children were safe. They burst through the door and stopped in horror. The room was full of acrid smoke. Sparks flew from the ceiling. McQueen finally let go the breath he was holding as he heard Izzy crying.

"Dill!" he yelled.

"Here!" came her reply, as she flung open her bedroom door. "Thank God you came back!" She ran into his arms. "The children are terrified."

"Come on, grab the kids and let's go," Ross said, staring about him at the damage. "Did you take a hit?"

"I don't know," Dill said, "but it sure felt like it."

"No, they didn't," McQueen growled, heading for his children, well aware that if they had he would have lost them all. He picked up Cameron as Dill grabbed Izzy and Ross took Hamish. The three of them turned to run.

"Cashus!" Cameron cried.

"Leave him!" McQueen barked. Now that he actually held his child in his arms, he'd once again slipped into command mode.

"Ty!" Dill pleaded.

"Where is he?" he demanded of the small boy.

"In my bed," Cameron whispered, scared of the look on his fathers face and the way he spoke.

"You two go. We'll catch you up," McQueen snapped.

Dill and Ross glanced at one another and took off, Dill stopping only long enough to grab the nappy bag she saw lying on the floor.

McQueen pushed open the door to the children's room with his foot. He stopped and stared. The view port was cracked. Air was slowly leeching into space, and the children's toys were strewn around the room. The wall was bulging under the pressure, and it looked as though at any minute it was going to rupture.

He turned and put Cameron on the floor just outside. "Stay there and don't open the door," he told him.

"Yes, daddy," Cameron whispered, aware of how shocked his daddy was.

Pulling the door shut behind him, McQueen looked for Cashus. As he did so, he grabbed whatever toys came to hand, stuffing them into a small toy sack. Finally he grabbed Cashus. His heart pounded as he opened the door and found Cameron still standing there, tears streaming down his face.

"What are you crying for? I found Cashus, here take him!"

Ty grabbed the boy and turned to leave, then hesitated. Dill would need something other than that dress, he thought. Taking a deep breath, he ran into her bedroom and again grabbing the nearest bag, opened drawers and began emptying the contents into the bag, glad to see she had the kids' clothes in there too. He'd finished and was on his way out, Cameron in his arms, when the wall ruptured. He was flung to the floor and Cameron hit the wall.

Picking himself up, Ty managed to pull the door shut behind them as the pressure seals slammed into place. He grabbed Cameron, took one look at the pale, still, and bloodied face, and his heart almost stopped. Ty clutched his son to him and grabbing the bags, ran as fast as he could to the landing bay where he hoped they were still waiting for him. If he'd gone straightaway, instead of stopping for toys and clothing, this would never have happened, he kept telling himself. 'You've killed Cameron because you're a stupid tank! You should have got out of there straightaway.'

He flew through the corridors, charging through people, determined to get his baby to the Saratoga's sickbay as fast as possible, even if he had to fly the transport himself. Hell, he'd fit Cameron on his lap in a hammerhead, if that's what it took!

McQueen ran through the door to the landing bay. He could see Ross standing in the door of the transport, arguing about closing the doors. Dill was behind him holding Izzy, Hamish clutching at her legs.

"Wait!" he yelled, climbing aboard. "We're here." He flung the bags down. "Is there a doc on board?" he called, Cameron still clutched tightly to his chest.

"Cameron!" Dill cried. "What happened? Is he alright?"

"I fell, he hit the wall. I didn't stop to check him over. The wall had ruptured and I just wanted to get us out of there!" he snapped. "For all I know he might be de…. I don't know…." McQueen stopped, his fears catching up with him. He released Cameron into Ross' arms and turned to hug Dill, desperately burying his face in her neck, not caring who saw him. He just needed a moment to regain his composure... a moment of comfort to help him face his fear.

"He's alive and breathing," Ross announced. He'd cleared a space on the floor and laid the little boy down. "From the state of his skull he might have a fracture, but as soon as we get to the Saratoga the Docs will take care of him. Don't worry, Dylan, he'll be fine." He spoke to Dill, but he looked at McQueen, seeing the stony expressionless face he was so familiar with. The one that hid the fear and guilt he was feeling.

Hamish took one look at the still body of his brother and burst into tears, sobbing against McQueen's legs, desperate to be picked up and reassured. McQueen brushed him off. "Stop it!" he ordered him. "Crying won't help. Stay with mommy."

McQueen marched to the flightdeck and spoke to the pilots. He came back, his face stonier than ever. "It's going to be a bumpy ride, folks. Strap yourselves in." He stopped to pick up Hamish and strap him to a seat. Ty crouched to speak to him.

"I'm sorry, Hamish. Daddy doesn't have the time right now to give you hugs. I need you to stop crying and be a brave marine. You think you can do that? When Cameron wakes up, he needs to see you smiling, not crying, okay?" Despite his best efforts, his voice sounded harsh even to his own ears.

Hamish nodded, trying hard to stop his sobbing, and rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Yes, daddy," he whispered. His voice was subdued. The young boy was terrified of this strange new side to his daddy, a side that wouldn't allow him to give hugs or kisses. A side that only seemed cross and angry.

With a sigh and a quick look at Dill's worried face, McQueen turned away, heading for the weapons console. He had a job to do, and he would do it no matter that his chest was tight with fear for his family. Fear that he'd damaged Cameron beyond anything that the docs could do for him. Fear that Dill would never forgive him for allowing Cameron to be hurt. Fear that he could never forgive himself because he hadn't gone when he should have.

Despite those fears, the weapons had to be manned and he had to protect them all from more chig attacks. McQueen sat down and lost himself in the procedures and checks necessary to ensure the weapons system was on line. Any chigs that approached this transport were never going to see their families again.


	4. Chapter 4

Small Miracles 4.

Three hours later Dill was sitting by Cameron's bedside, fighting to keep her eyes open, when McQueen and Ross walked in. On arriving back at the Saratoga a medical team had been standing by, and whisked Cameron away to sickbay as soon as McQueen carried him from the transport. Ty'd sent Dill, Hamish and Izzy along too, telling her they'd be in the safest place. He and Ross had headed to the bridge to find out exactly what was going on.

On reaching sickbay the doctor had taken one look at Dill and the other two children, and had them installed in a private room. It hadn't taken her long to get both Hamish and Izzy to sleep in the room's other bed, and she'd been sitting with them, waiting while Cameron had been scanned, x-rayed, and thoroughly checked over, before finally he was brought back and tucked up in bed. His fair curls gone where they'd shaved him to treat the damage to his head. The doctors were keeping him unconscious to allow the slight swelling of his brain to subside, and Dill had been told that he should make a full recovery. His invitro genes were most certainly helping him.

Ross stood at the foot of the bed looking at the little boy. With his head and face bandaged, he looked even smaller in the huge hospital bed. "How is he?" he asked, his concern evident on his face.

"His skull is fractured. So's his cheek and his nose. They say he must have hit the wall face on." Dill kept her eyes on the tiny figure in the bed.

"Dill, I..." McQueen tried to speak, but looking at his son choked him. "I'm sorry, Dill," he eventually whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. The whole room just went. I was thrown to the floor and he shot out of my arms. I'm sorry. This is my fault." He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye, afraid of what he might see there.

Ross, realising that they needed privacy, smiled at Dill. "The same VIP quarters you had last time are being prepared for you now. I'd suggest you get some sleep yourself. Let Ty stay with him for a while."

"Thank you, Glen. I really appreciate it. I'll stay though. I want to be here when he wakes up." Dill smiled at him before glancing at McQueen, whose eyes were firmly fixed on Cameron.

"We should be safe now. The chig fighter that did this was taken out, and we've several squads out on patrol. Relax, Dylan. Sleep," Ross told her.

"Is that an order, commodore?" she smiled.

"If you want it to be. Now please excuse me. I _do_ need to sleep." Ross turned and left.

"Ty, sit down please. You're making me nervous." Dill said wearily.

Ty sat on a chair in the corner of the room. "I'm sorry, Dill," he whispered, burying his face in his hands before running them up through his hair, inadvertently giving away his exhaustion.

Dill got up and went to him. Kneeling in front of him, she pulled his hands away. "Look at me, Ty." Reluctantly, he did so. "It's not your fault. Do you seriously think that even for a single moment I thought you meant it to happen?"

"I should have kept him safe. If I'd gone straightaway, he wouldn't have been hurt. But I stopped to get you some other clothes. I wasted time." Ty looked at her, his face a picture of misery. "I know better, Dill. I disregarded all my training because I didn't want everyone else seeing you in that dress. Look what happened," he pointed to Cameron. "I did that, because I'm a stupid, jealous tank!"

"No, Ty, you're not. You're a wonderful, caring, loving man. A man that I'm proud to be married to. You didn't want everyone seeing me in this dress? That's okay. I understand that. I was hoping it'd persuade you to stay the night. I wasn't planning on wearing it for everyday wear," she smiled. "Its nice knowing you want me all to yourself."

"If I'd listened to Glen this might not have happened," he said softly.

"If I'd not brought them here this wouldn't have happened. But I'm not going to think like that, and neither should you. It's happened. Cameron is hurt, but he's alive. It's not your fault, and it's not my fault. It's nobody's fault. You're not superhuman, Ty. You can't protect them from everything." Dill wrapped her arms around him. "I know you want to try, and so do I , but life doesn't work like that." She yawned. "I'm sorry. I can barely keep my eyes open."

"Hop up on the bed with Cameron," Ty told her.

"No, Ty. Help me with these two and I'll get some sleep in our quarters. You come back and stay with him. Hold him, Ty. Hold him close and don't let him go," she told him, knowing that it was what McQueen needed, but would be reluctant to do.

"Should we leave him alone?" he asked worriedly.

"They've drugged him. They're keeping him under for the next few hours. His brain has some swelling." She saw the panic on his face. "It's okay. They said that's normal with a fracture like this. But they want him to stay still and not move. So he won't be waking up for a while yet."

"The drugs, Dill - are they safe?" McQueen asked. "Did you tell them to check?"

"Yes, sweetie, of course I did," she yawned again.

"Come on then," he smiled. "Let's get you to bed." After a moments hesitation, Ty lifted Hamish into his arms. The boy settled himself comfortably on his father's shoulder and went back to sleep.

Dill did the same with Izzy, and once he was sure that Dill and both children were tucked up safe and sound, McQueen made his way back to sickbay.

He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Cameron. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you so much, Cameron. Please get better. Please be okay. I don't want to lose you."

He was sound asleep, Cameron in his arms, when the nurse came in to check an hour later. Smiling, she checked Cameron over and left, turning the light down low as she did.

Several hours later Dill crept back into the room. She was wearing a pair of McQueen's jeans, the legs rolled up and with a belt securely holding them up. The shirt she wore, however, was one of her own.

When she'd woken up, she'd discovered the two bags Ty'd packed. She smiled, seeing one of them full of the children's toys. And the other, to her amusement, contained an odd assortment of clothing. There were several pairs of shorts and a few t-shirts, along with a handful of underwear for the boys, a single pair of overalls and a very pretty dress for Izzy. But for Dill it had been a shirt and a handful of underwear. She'd laughed when she realised that even in his rush, Ty'd unconsciously gone for the sexy underwear. And now all she had to wear was a shirt and her choice of some very flimsy bras. She'd pulled her dress back on and run barefoot to his quarters, rummaging through his clothes to borrow some jeans and a pair of the silk boxers she'd bought him.

Now she stood at the foot of the bed and looked at him, asleep still, Cameron cradled in his arms as if he were made of china. She called to him softly, "Ty"

He stirred and opened his eyes slowly. "Hey Dill," he yawned.

"I thought I'd come and relieve you... let you get a few hours sleep in your own bed," she smiled, walking around to him and kissing his cheek. "Ooh, whiskers. Sexy!"

"Are those my jeans?" McQueen asked, loosening his hold on Cameron and slipping from the bed.

"They are indeed," Dill smiled. "I raided your wardrobe, I'm afraid. I found the clothes you packed for us." She wrapped her arms around his neck, and as he hoisted her up onto his hips, she wrapped her legs around him. "You didn't grab anything for the bottom half of me, so I needed to borrow them. Unless, of course, you were planning on keeping me naked from the waist down?"

"I wasted time grabbing clothes, and I didn't even do that properly," he sighed. "If I'd left as soon as I found Cashus we wouldn't have been near the room when the wall blew. I wouldn't have been knocked off my feet, and Cameron wouldn't be lying in that bed." Ty held Dill tightly to him as if afraid he might drop her too. "Dill, you have bare feet."

"I know. I left my shoes behind when we grabbed the kids and ran. I almost borrowed your running shoes, but they're far too big for me. I'm fine like this," she smiled. "Go and take a shower. Get some clean clothes and something to eat, then go say hello to Izzy and Hamish."

"You left them on their own?" Ty asked, putting her down.

"No, Vanessa and Shane are with them. But I think you need to speak to Hamish. He cried for quite some time about the fact that you'd shouted at him. He was frightened of you, Ty." Dill looked up at his face. "I know you tried to explain to him, but he's still a baby. He didn't understand. You did a good job though, as well as could be expected in the circumstances. I'm proud of you. Don't wonder about if's. I love you. Cameron will still love you. We all love you, Ty. We don't expect you to be superman, able to do everything. We just want to love you."

McQueen rubbed a hand over his face. "I screwed up, Dill, and our baby got hurt. I can't just forget it."

"Stop it! Right now, right this instant!" she growled at him. "I'm not asking you to forget it. How can you, with him laying there, looking like that? What I'm doing is telling you to let it go. Don't keep worrying about it. It's done. Let's move on."

"Dill…," he started.

She pushed him into the chair by the bed and stood over him. "Tyrus Cassius McQueen! I'm going to say this to you one more time, and then I'm going to withhold your conjugal rights." She tried not to laugh at the look on his face. "I don't blame you for what happened to Cameron. Nobody blames you, except you. It was no one's fault. It happened, but he's going to be okay. That's the important factor here."

"I shouted at him, Dill, just before it happened. I told him to stop crying…," Ty said softly.

"Why was he crying?"

"Because I shut the door on him. I left him outside on his own while I found Cashus."

"Why did you shut the door?"

"The wall was bulging. It looked ready to blow. I didn't want him to be there if it did. I wanted him to at least stand a chance. When I opened the door, he was crying. I told him to stop crying because I had Cashus."

Dill sighed and sat herself on his lap, hugging him. "I doubt that he'll remember that, Ty. And even if he does, it's not the end of the world. Wait till he's a teenager. If he's anything like I was, you'll find that you only ever shout at him. Come on, my lover. He doesn't need to feel you worrying yourself silly over this. He needs to wake up and feel you being the strong, loving daddy that you are." She kissed him gently. "Now go and take that shower. Eat, and say hello to your other babies. I'll get them to call you when they're going to wake him up."

"Yes, Dill," Ty sighed. He knew she was right, but it didn't take the guilt away. He was Cameron's father. He was supposed to protect him and keep him safe, not hurt him and put him in sickbay. What kind of a father did that to his own child? 'A stupid tank, that's who. A stupid, jealous tank who doesn't deserve the family he has. Who always does everything wrong and ends up hurting them over and over again.'

Dill climbed off his lap. Watching Ty's face, seeing the anxious glance at Cameron as he stood up, she was well aware that he still felt guilty and little she could do or say would change that. All she could do was let him know she didn't blame him and that she still loved him. She patted his behind. "Scoot. Go on."

McQueen turned to kiss Cameron's forehead, before hugging her tight and leaving.

Ty stood in the shower, letting the hot water run over him. He took a few deep, calming breaths, and told himself to stop it. Dill was right. It wasn't his fault. Yes, he should have grabbed Cameron and run when he'd found Cashus. But he didn't and Cameron got hurt. But Cameron was going to be fine and need his daddy to be there for him, not wallowing in self pity. Besides, he could always get extra hugs from Dill if he needed to. That thought made him smile. Withhold conjugal rights indeed! Ty grinned wickedly. He'd show her who could last longer without. She'd be begging for it by the time he'd finished with her. He chuckled to himself. Once Cameron was well on the road to recovery she'd pay for that remark. Grabbing a towel, McQueen stepped out of the shower to dry himself and find a clean flight suit. Once he was dressed, he headed to the mess, his stomach growling. He'd got himself a plate heaped with food and sat down when Ross appeared at his side.

"May I?" he asked, his own plate held in his hand.

McQueen looked up. "Of course."

"Any news on Cameron?" Ross asked as he sat down and began tucking into his food.

"Dill says they're keeping him sedated to stop him moving about. She'll get them to call me when they wake him up." McQueen looked at Ross. "I feel awful, Glen. I know Dill says it's not my fault, and logically I can see that, but still there's a tiny voice asking me what kind of father hurts his own child?"

"Ty, that tiny voice is the one that'll guide you through the minefield that is fatherhood. Sometimes it'll steer you right, and sometimes it won't. This time it's wrong and Dylan is right."

"How can you be so sure?" McQueen asked between mouthfuls of food.

"Because I've seen the report on the attack. Three hits were made, all of them on the side of the station where Dylan and the children were quartered. Add to that the fact that, as you say, they gave her VIP quarters and asked for her by name. Something's rotten in the state of Denmark, Ty."

McQueen gaped at him. "Aerotech," he whispered. "Aerotech are after my kids. I have to get them away, Glen." His voice rose in panic.

"Ty, calm down," Ross growled. "Why would Aerotech be after your children?"

"Because," he pushed his half eaten plate away, as suddenly he'd lost his appetite, "Cameron has… abilities. He knows how I'm feeling most of the time, even when I'm out here and he's at home. He can read other people's feelings too."

"He's empathic?"

"It looks that way." McQueen lowered his voice so that only Ross would hear him. "You remember me telling you about Valentine? Works for Aerotech?"

Ross nodded.

"Well, I'm still not sure if I can trust him. I think so, but things like this make me suspicious." McQueen leaned in close. "He did some digging into my background. Apparently I was part of an experiment to create tanks with psi powers. It didn't work, and they thought it would be a latent gene, showing in our children. But that failed too, so my batch was shipped off to the mines in the hope we'd all die and the evidence would be lost."

"Except you didn't die and now you have children," Ross's eyebrows quirked. "Hamish? Isobel?"

"Not so far as we can tell, though Izzy does have an odd habit. But I can't see that it's related." McQueen looked at the food in front of him, contemplating whether to finish it or not, and then looked up at Ross. "I don't know what to do, Glen. I don't know how to protect them. They know where we live, so they're not safe at home anymore. They obviously know that they're here. How long before something happens on the 'Toga? I can't protect my own family."

He sounded so lost, so forlorn, that Ross reached out and squeezed his arm. "I've upped security around their quarters. Hell, on the whole ship, Ty. Tell the 58th - they'll help keep an eye on her and the children. They'd do it anyway, but this will give them focus."

"I can't tell them. We need them focussed on their patrols, not worrying about my family."

"Only you can worry about your family, is that it?" Ross smiled. "They care about you, Ty. They consider Dylan and the children as much a part of the 58th as you are. A threat to them is a threat to you all."

McQueen frowned. "It shouldn't be like that, Glen. I'm their C.O., not their father!"

"That's what you think. But what they think, well… that's something else entirely." Ross ate some food and watched the emotions playing across his friend's face. "You can't tell them how to feel, Ty, anymore than me telling you that what happened to Cameron was not your fault will change the way you feel."

McQueen sighed. "I can't help it. If only I'd been holding him tighter, maybe he wouldn't have hit the wall."

"No, you'd have fallen on him and now he'd have crush injuries instead," Ross told him.

McQueen shrugged. "I guess so. I'd better go speak to Hamish. Dill says I scared him. Sometimes I think I'm just not cut out for this fatherhood stuff."

"Yes you are, Ty. Everyone who sees you with your children knows that," Ross chuckled. "Go see him, and then go to sickbay. I don't want to see you on the bridge again until Cameron is wide awake and driving the nurses mad."

"Glen! I can't neglect my duties." McQueen was shocked.

"Let's make it an order then, shall we," Ross frowned. "Colonel McQueen, I don't expect to see you on duty for the next twenty-four hours. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes, sir"

"Good."

McQueen stepped through the door to Dill's quarters carefully, looking around to see where his children were. Izzy was sitting on a sofa playing with Vansen's ponytail, whilst Hamish cuddled up to Damphousse as she read him a story.

"Daddy!" Isobel cried, climbing down and toddling to him.

"Hey dumpling." Ty picked her up and swung her into the air before kissing her. "Hey Hamish," he smiled at the little boy on the sofa.

Hamish looked at him and ran from the sofa and into the other room, his cry of 'No daddy!' causing both Vansen and Damphousse to stare after him.

McQueen sighed. "Has he said anything to you?" he asked, aware of both women's startled looks.

"No sir," Damphousse told him. "He's been perfectly happy since he woke up - chatty and really well behaved. But he's said nothing to make him do that."

"Okay dumpling, I need to talk to your brother. You be a good girl for me and stay here with Vanessa and Shane, okay?"

Izzy merely smiled at him.

"Good girl," he smiled, kissing her again before putting her down on the sofa and heading after Hamish. In the doorway, he stopped. "Breakfast is being delivered for all of you in about fifteen mikes. If it's not Corporal Hudson delivering it, refuse it. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Vansen snapped.

"Are we allowed to ask why, sir?" Damphousse asked.

"I'll explain later. I need to speak to Hamish now, but I'll brief all of you at...," he looked at his watch, "10:00. Unless Cameron is awake. Then it'll be later."

"Yes, sir," Damphousse smiled.

McQueen smiled a small, quick half smile, and went in search of his small son.

McQueen opened the door to the children's room. Hamish was huddled on a bed, tears streaming down his face. "No, daddy!" he screamed. "No smacking! Please, daddy, no smacking! Please, daddy!"

McQueen sighed. Closing the door behind him, he went and sat on the end of the bed. "I'm not going to smack you, Hamish. You haven't done anything bad. You've been a good boy. Why would I smack you?"

"Don't smack me, daddy, please," Hamish begged.

"Come here, little guy." Ty patted the bed next to him. "Come over here."

"Yes, daddy," Hamish sobbed, crawling over to him, and watching him warily.

"It's okay. There'll be no smacking, but I need a hug from my little guy."

Hamish crawled into his lap and hugged him. McQueen held him close, rocking him gently. "I love you, Hamish. I would never smack you. Have I ever smacked you?"

"No daddy," Hamish whispered as his sobs subsided.

"Why do you keep thinking I'm gonna smack you? Does mommy smack you?"

"No, daddy," Hamish looked at him. "You say that funny."

"Say what funny?"

"Mummy. You say mommy," Hamish whispered, as McQueen gently stroked his back.

"I guess I do," McQueen smiled. "Tell me, little guy, why do you think I'm gonna smack you?"

"That's what daddies do," Hamish told him. "Smack their boys. Smacking makes you cry."

"Has someone smacked you? Gamma? Has Gamma smacked you? Grandpa... did he smack you?"

"No," Hamish said quietly. "Gamma tells me off, but she doesn't smack me. Grandpa said he'd tell mummy on me if I'm naughty."

"Oh no," McQueen chuckled. "Not tell mommy on you! Mommy gets real ticked off, doesn't she? I hate it when mommy tells me off."

Hamish giggled. "Sometimes you's a bad daddy."

"Sometimes I am," McQueen agreed. "I try to be good, but sometimes… well, sometimes I'm just plain bad."

"Does mummy smack you?" Hamish asked softly.

"Nope, mommy never smacks me. She tells me off, and then she hugs me. Sometimes I get a kiss too," he answered. "Why do daddies smack, Hamish? Nobody told me daddies had to smack."

"Oliver's daddy smacked him. Oliver cried," Hamish said.

"Why did Oliver's daddy smack him?" McQueen asked, still gently rocking and stroking his young son.

"Because he didn't come when he called him."

"Oliver's daddy called Oliver, but Oliver didn't come?" McQueen repeated. Hamish nodded.

"And so Oliver's daddy smacked him?"

"Yes, daddy,"

McQueen pondered for a moment. "Hamish, do you always come when I call you?"

"No, daddy."

"Why don't you come?" McQueen asked.

"Sometimes I don't hear you," Hamish told him.

"Why don't you hear me? You have ears that work, don't you?" Ty tugged Hamish's ear, making him giggle.

"Sometimes I's playing too hard."

"So, if you're playing nicely but don't hear me, then that means I have to smack you? Hmmmm. I don't like that Hamish. I don't think smacking you for playing is a good thing. I think that'd be a bad thing. If I do bad things mommy tells me off, and I don't like it when she does that. So I don't think I'll smack you for not coming when I call you. Why else might I smack you?"

Hamish thought for a moment. "If I've been bad."

"Have you been bad, Hamish?"

"Sometimes I's bad," Hamish nodded. "I tries to be good, like you tries, but sometimes I's bad."

"So, if mommy doesn't smack me for being bad, it's not fair if I smack you for being bad, is it? I don't think I'll smack you for being bad." McQueen kissed Hamish's blonde hair, ruffling it with one hand. "Why else would I smack you?"

Hamish thought, his face screwing up with the effort. "I dunno," he finally said.

"Well, I can't think of anything else either," McQueen told him. "So if I'm not going to smack you for not coming, and I'm not going to smack you for being bad, then I guess that means I'm not going to smack you. Doesn't it?"

He could see the wheels turning as Hamish thought through the implications of what he'd said. "Would you smack me for being good?" the little boy eventually asked.

"Why would you need a smack if you were good? Only bad boys get smacks, surely. And what did we decide about smacking you for being bad?"

"You won't smack me for being bad because mummy doesn't smack you for being bad," Hamish smiled, pleased with himself for working it out.

"So, no smacks for being bad, or being good. That means no smacks at all, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Daddy!" Hamish nodded vigorously.

"So that's settled then. I won't be smacking you ever, so you don't need to cry about it, do you?"

"No daddy." Hamish hesitated. "Will you do shouting?"

"Like I did yesterday? I'm afraid so. But shouting doesn't hurt, does it?"

"You scareded me," Hamish told him.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was scared about Cameron. I'm sorry I shouted at you when you needed a cuddle. It doesn't mean that I don't love you anymore, but I had to be Colonel daddy, not just daddy. And that meant I had jobs to do, and there wasn't any time for cuddles. I had to make sure we got to the 'Toga quickly to get Cameron to the doctors, and I had to be Colonel daddy to do that."

"I don't like Colonel daddy," Hamish whispered. "He's a scary daddy. I want you to be my daddy."

"I'll try, Hamish, I'll try. But sometimes you might see me being Colonel daddy, and you need to know that even Colonel daddy wouldn't smack you, because he loves you too."

There was a tap on the door, and Damphousse poked her head round. "Breakfast has arrived, sir. I thought we'd better let you know so Hamish can eat his while it's still warm."

"Thank you, Vanessa. We'll be right out." Ty smiled at Hamish and held him close. "Ready for some food, little guy?"

"Yes, daddy," Hamish smiled back.

"Come on then." Ty got off the bed, took his son's hand, and led him out of the room.

After telling the girls that either he or Dill would be back shortly, McQueen made a quick stop at the PX and went to sickbay. Opening the door, he saw Dill sitting on the bed with Cameron. She was singing softly to him while she held his hand and stroked his stomach.

"Hey Dill," he whispered.

She turned. "Hey you," she smiled. "I'm just stroking his tummy. He likes that. Always has, from a tiny baby."

"I know. He makes me do it when I put him to bed. Sends him right off to sleep," Ty said, coming up behind her and hugging her close. "Why don't you go and get some breakfast? I'll stay with him." He kissed the back of her neck. "I got you something from the PX."

"Anything nice?" Dill smiled, lowering her head to offer him more of her neck, unconsciously mimicking what he did to her when they made love.

"This is the PX we're talking about here, Dill, not Macy's." Ty kissed her neck again before he handed her a pair of trainers and a pair of jeans. "It's not much, but at least you have something for your feet now, and I get my pants back."

Dill grinned at him. "You want them back right now? I can do that." She hopped off the bed and began to unbuckle the belt, letting the jeans slip slowly to the floor.

"Stop it, Dill," McQueen growled, as he realised he was getting turned on by the sight of her in his silk boxers, despite the fact that they were hanging dangerously low on her hips. Or maybe because of it, he thought.

"But I thought you wanted your pants back?" she teased softly.

Ty picked her up, and the jeans slid off her feet and onto the floor. "Don't tease, Dill. Not here, not now. I want you real bad, but later." He kissed her hungrily before putting her back down and sitting down next to Cameron on the bed. "I spoke to Hamish. I think maybe we've worked out the whole smacking thing. He asked me if you smacked me for being bad."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth." He watched her as she dressed in the new jeans. "That you don't smack me no matter how bad I've been. I told him that if you don't smack me, how can I smack him?"

"True," Dill nodded.

"Then he asked me if I'd smack him for being good. I told him no. I think we worked it out. I guess we'll have to wait and see. You should have seen the looks on Vansen and Damphousse's faces when he started crying for me not to smack him the minute I walked into the room." He stopped, a horrified look on his face. "Do you think he thinks I smacked Cameron and that's why he's here?"

"No, he knows you didn't. He asked me what happened while Cameron was off being scanned, and I told him you fell. He asked me if you needed a plaster for your knee, and that I was to tell you that everybody falls sometimes." Dill smiled. "See, even Hamish knows it was an accident. Ty, let's not go there again. It wasn't your fault. Please, try not to let it get to you."

She jumped up onto the bed and snuggled up to her husband, so that he pulled her onto his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Dill reached up to kiss him, her fingers lightly brushing his navel. "You cannot take responsibility for everything. No parent in the world is capable of protecting his or her children twenty-fours hours a day seven days a week. Not even you, mister! "

"I know," Ty smiled, rubbing his face in her hair. "Mmm, you smell so good. Come on though - one of us has to go relieve the girls. I'd like to stay with him if that's okay?"

"Don't you have bridge duty?"

"Glen relieved me of duty for twenty-four hours, so no, I don't. I said I'd let the 58th know what was going on at ten hundred hours, but I really need to be with him when he wakes up, Dill."

"I know you do, darling. I'll go see to our other babies then. I'll bring them along here to see Cameron, and you can go do your briefing or whatever it is, yes?" she said.

"That'd be good. It gives me what, an hour to be with him?"

Dill nodded. "He'll still love you, Ty. You are his daddy, after all." She kissed him and left, taking his jeans and the trainers with her. She smiled at Ross as he passed her in the corridor.

"Is Ty in there?" he asked.

"He is, yes, for the next hour or so," she smiled. "Thank you, Glen, for the quarters... for everything." She darted in and dropped a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for your help last night."

"You're welcome," he smiled, before heading to sickbay to talk to McQueen.

Ten o'clock found McQueen making his way to the 58ths quarters. He stopped outside and took a long look at the picture on the door. The Wildcards… his first kids. He smiled to himself, and with a loud knock, opened the door and strode inside.

They were sat on their beds waiting for him. They looked up as he entered, their faces showing their eagerness to hear what he had to say.

McQueen stopped, feeling slightly unsure of what exactly he was about to tell them. He looked around at them. At Hawkes, with his eager expression, keen to know just what was going on, his blue eyes searching McQueen's face for clues. West sitting on his bunk just watching McQueen, quietly assessing his CO's mood. The girls, Vansen and Damphousse, sitting together, eyeing him speculatively.

With a resigned sigh, McQueen sat himself at the small table, and for a moment wondered if he should just leave. If it was wrong to involve these youngsters in his personal business.

"What I'm about to tell you is highly personal to me, and I don't expect you to discuss it with anyone else. Do you understand?"

A chorus of 'yes sirs!' rang out, causing him to give them a brief smile.

"You may or may not have noticed that Cameron has certain… abilities, shall we say," he stated, watching to see if anyone nodded. They all looked slightly confused. He could see Hawkes framing a question. He decided to counter it. "He seems able to read peoples feelings, and he's particularly tuned in to me. He can read other people too, if he tries. With me he doesn't have to try."

Damphousse stared at him. "He's an empath?"

McQueen nodded. "Seems like it. When I lost my leg again last summer, Dill and I met someone who became a friend. That friend works for Aerotech, and has been nosing around. He found out some things that shocked both him and me." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Up until that point my concerns had been for Hamish. You can see for yourselves the differences in the boys. Hamish is a good head taller than Cameron, and a helluva lot sturdier and tougher."

"He's gonna be a marine," Hawkes smiled.

"That's what I thought too," McQueen admitted. "My thoughts were running along the lines of the tank super soldier idea that Aerotech had apparently given up on when the tank platoons refused to fight." He was conscious of embarrassed glances. "I wondered if they'd done gene manipulation to ensure that tanks bred their own super soldiers."

"Those soldiers would be natural born, with none of the associated stigmas," Vansen whispered, horrified. "They'd fit right in alongside the rest of their squads."

McQueen nodded. "That's where my thoughts were going. Especially when an Aerotech geek showed up and took note of my children, and made it plain he saw the differences between the two boys. And then my... friend," he paused, "pointed out to me that it was Cameron that Aerotech would be interested in, not Hamish. That although Hamish is big and strong, has enhanced hearing, and a well developed sense of smell, those things were just a result of the amount of tank genes he has."

"Do you trust this friend, sir?" West asked from his bunk. "He's Aerotech."

"I don't know. I think so, but I'm undecided. You see, he found out things about me that I didn't know. That I would never have known," McQueen admitted.

He looked so uncomfortable that Damphousse spoke up. "Sir, you don't have to tell us this."

"Yes, Vanessa, I do, because I have to ask you something, and you need to know why I'm asking," he told her. Taking a deep breath, he carried on, desperate to get it over with. "Aerotech and the IVA decided to experiment to see if they could produce tanks with psi powers. The experiment appeared to fail, and then one bright spark thought that maybe it was a latent gene. So more manipulation was done to see if the tanks' children would have those powers. My batch was included in that second set of manipulations."

"But why'd a miner need psi powers?" Hawkes asked.

"I wasn't supposed to be a miner, Hawkes. They decided that the experiment was a total failure. None of the children from the first batch of tanks survived more than a few days after birth. They had terrible birth defects from too much gene manipulation, even though they were born to natural born women. So my batch was sent off to the mines, to get rid of the evidence. They hoped we'd all die." McQueen fell silent for a moment.

"So what were you supposed to be, sir?" It was Vansen this time.

He looked at her, his face flushing red. "That doesn't matter. It's not relevant."

"Other than the fact that you have three children with no birth defects, and one is an empath," West said to him. "Which is why Aerotech are interested in your children."

McQueen nodded, as both girls gasped at the thought.

"Sex," Hawkes said quietly. "You were s'posed to be used for sex. You'd have sex with these women and get them pregnant." He looked McQueen squarely in the eye, a wide grin appearing on his face. "Only you got Dylan pregnant instead, because you didn't die. One in the eye for Aerotech."

"You could look at it like that," McQueen remarked dryly.

"Or you could look at it that Aerotech want to get their hands on your children," West said slowly and deliberately.

"That's how I am looking at it. Two months ago a request was sent to Dill's mom, apparently from the military high ups, asking that Dill repeat the play sessions she did before. The ones she did here."

"Where the two of you met," Damphousse smiled.

"Yes, where we met," McQueen frowned. "They asked for her by name. She told them that she couldn't say yes or no until she'd spoken to me. Her letter to me never arrived. In fact no post from her to me has arrived in that time. Her mother sent a message using priority channels, which also never arrived. She asked them to arrange a live link so she could speak to me," he grimaced. "Apparently we were 'too far away'."

"That's what the satellites are for!" Hawkes declared.

"We know that, Hawkes, but Dill believed them. She gave them a list of requirements to be met before she'd say yes. They met every one without a murmur. So she bought the children to Mir. She was given the best quarters on the station. Quarters which were on the only side of the station to receive any direct hits from the chig fighter. All three missiles were aimed at one spot."

"Her quarters," Vansen whispered.

McQueen nodded. "They're lucky to be alive, and I'd like them to stay that way."

"Someone is trying to get rid of the evidence of that experiment," West said confidently.

"My thoughts exactly. The commodore thinks so too," McQueen agreed. "That's why I'm here. I want to ask you to help me keep them safe while they're on board. I need someone to be guarding them whenever I'm not about. But Dill mustn't know that's what you're doing, if you agree to help."

Vansen smiled broadly. "It would be an honour, sir, to help protect your family. They're part of the 58th too. We protect our own. No one is going to get near them while they're here."

The others all nodded their agreement.

"How you gonna stop it?" Hawkes asked, ever practical.

"I don't know," McQueen admitted. "Hell, I don't even know who it is yet. Commodore Ross is putting out feelers, but it has to be done gently. They mustn't know we're looking for them."

"It's Aerotech," West said tersely. "Stands to reason."

"Well, whoever it is, I ain't gonna be gentle when we find 'em!" Hawkes grinned evilly.

McQueen stood. "Thank you," he said. "I'm going back to sick bay. I'm off duty till oh six thirty tomorrow, but I'd like someone to be there for them then."

"Me," Hawkes said. "I can pretend I want news of Iona." He blushed. "Ain't no one gonna hurt Izzy while I'm about."

McQueen smiled at him. "Thank you, Cooper. You too, Shane, Vanessa, and Nathan." He turned and left them, his heart lighter than it had been since he'd talked this over with Ross earlier.

Ty arrived back in sickbay in time to see the doctor going into Cameron's room. Following him in, he smiled as he saw Hamish sound asleep on the other bed, Izzy cuddled up next to him stroking his hair as her own eyes drooped.

"What is it with our kids?" he whispered to Dill. "They always seem to be sleeping. Do you drug them?"

"Silly," she whispered back, "they've had rather a lot of excitement recently, and they were both up before five this morning."

The doctor finished his examination of Cameron and turned to them. "I'm going to wake him up now. He might be a little groggy. Most likely scared and tearful. You might want to take the other two out of the room so they don't get frightened." He glanced across at them and smiled. "Sound asleep. Well, let's get on then. Would one of you like to hold him while I do it?"

Dill nudged McQueen. "Go on - you hold him. We both know he'll want daddy."

McQueen climbed onto the bed and took the little boy in his arms.

"I'm going to remove the catheter while he's still out cold. That way he won't be distressed about it." The doctor looked at Dill. "He might say it hurts when he pees though."

He removed it as he spoke, McQueen wincing at the sight. He'd had one himself a fair few times, but Cameron was so small. He held him closer, one hand unconsciously stroking the little boy's stomach gently.

"That's done. Now I'm going to administer this through the line in his arm. It should only take a minute or two, and once he's fully awake, I'll remove the drip."

As McQueen sat there watching the doctor, his heart leapt as he felt Cameron moving in his arms. "Steady, little guy," he whispered to him. "It's okay. Daddy's got you."

"Daddy?" Cameron mumbled softly. "My head ouches." He turned in McQueen's arms and snuggled into his chest. "Make it stop daddy."

McQueen looked at the doctor, who shrugged. "I'm not giving him painkillers. He shouldn't need them."

"He's three years old and his head ouches. I think you can give him something," McQueen growled.

"Ty!" Dill said softly.

"No, Dill, he doesn't need to have a headache. If it was you or I, fair enough. But he's a baby. He hurts and we can stop it."

"If I give him a painkiller, he'll get drowsy and we won't be able to tell if there's any permanent damage," the doctor told them both. "I'm sorry. I know it seems harsh, but it's for the best."

"Who's best? Not Cameron's. Give him a painkiller," McQueen snapped.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, little guy?" McQueen smiled down at the blue eyes looking up at him.

"Don't be cross, daddy. I don't like it when you're cross. My head doesn't ouch any more."

"Are you telling me a fib?" McQueen asked him.

Cameron's eyes grew wide. "McQueens don't tell fibs, daddy!"

McQueen hugged his son, dropping a kiss on his head. "That's true. We don't, do we?" He watched carefully as the doctor removed the drip from Cameron's arm without the little boy even noticing.

"No, daddy," Cameron sighed, snuggling himself more comfortably. His hand came up to touch his head. "Where's my hair gone?"

"They had to cut it, sweetie," Dill told him. "They had to mend the ouchie on your head."

Cameron smiled. "Now I look like daddy."

"You always looked like daddy," Dill smiled, kissing him.

"Where's Cashus?"

"He's here, right behind you," McQueen showed him. "He's been waiting for you to wake up."

"Did you hurt yourself, daddy? Did you get an ouchie?" Cameron asked his father. The boy looked at Dill, who'd sat herself at the foot on the bed. "There was a big noise, mummy, and we fell over. But daddy got Cashus for me."

"Well, I'd say his speech hasn't been impaired. And the way he moved himself would seem to indicate that he's not lost any gross motor functions, so I think I'll leave you in peace," the doctor smiled as he left the room.

"No, I didn't get an ouchie. I'm afraid you got all those. I'm sorry, Cameron. Sorry you got hurt." McQueen tried not to hold the boy too tightly, as he closed his eyes against the memory.

"Mummy?"

"Yes, darling?" Dill smiled.

"Daddy feels sad. Will you make him happy?"

"Maybe later, sweetie, not right now. He feels sad because we don't like to see you feeling poorly." She reached to squeeze McQueen's leg, reassuring him that Cameron was fine.

"He wants you to, mummy," Cameron told her.

"You don't have to tell mummy everything," McQueen whispered with a small smile. "You're giving away all my secrets, Cameron."

Dill laughed. "Daddy always wants me to make him happy. But he makes me happy too."

"I know," Cameron yawned.

"Why don't you have a sleep, little guy. You're tired," McQueen told him.

"Yes, daddy," Cameron answered, closing his eyes. "You won't leave me, will you?"

"No. I'll stay right here cuddling you till you tell me to go away."

"I love you daddy," Cameron sighed sleepily, as he snuggled still further against McQueen.

"And I love you too, little guy." McQueen grinned at Dill like the Cheshire cat.

"I told you, didn't I?" she whispered. "He loves you, Ty, no matter what." She leaned forward and kissed him. "We all love you."

Ty smiled and settled himself more comfortably. "I know you do, Dill. I don't ever want to be without any of you."

"You won't be. We McQueens are a tenacious bunch," she grinned.

"We McQueens," he repeated. "Hell, Dill, that sure sounds good."

"It does, doesn't it?" she chuckled, climbing off the bed. "Want some coffee? I think I'd kill for one round about now."

"Yes, please," Ty smiled, watching as she opened the door and peered out before, with a quick grin, disappearing in search of refreshment. Then he snuggled lower on the bed until he was stretched out, with Cameron almost lying on top of him, as he held him as close as he possibly could, while the little boy slept soundly in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Small Miracles 5.

McQueen strolled through the Saratoga's hallways with a gleam in his eye. If he hadn't been so aware of his rank he would have had his hands in his pockets and been whistling a jaunty tune.

Cameron had been released from sickbay, and judging by the temper tantrum he'd thrown when Izzy had dared to touch Cashus without his permission, he was well on the way to recovery. Dill had been casting longing looks in McQueen's direction every time she saw him, so he'd made his plans and spoken to Lt. Crowe in Communications. Crowe had stared at him as if he was mad, but with the promise of a bottle of whiskey had agreed. Hawkes was babysitting, happy to spend time with Izzy who he absolutely adored. And it seemed she adored him just as much.

Now he was on his way to see Dill. They were going to spend the night together in his quarters and pretend they had no children at all. He'd planned the evening with military precision. They'd have dinner together, go to the Tun for a drink or two, and then he'd take her back to his quarters. Ty smiled to himself. He'd taken a lot of care over the choice of his clothes for this evening, and had attracted several wolf whistles already, which he hoped were from female crew members. He wore a pair of black chinos that Dill had added to his wardrobe, telling him they showed his butt off to perfection, and a blue shirt that exactly matched his eyes, tonight a dark royal blue. Another addition by Dill. He'd even donned the silk boxers she'd bought him, though he found them a little too loose for comfort. He'd stood in front of the mirror for ages trying to decide shirt in or out, before finally deciding tucked in. But not too tucked. After all he wanted her to have something to pull out. He'd even splashed on some aftershave, something he rarely did, and dispensed with his usual undershirt so that he could unbutton his shirt just that one extra button.

Ty arrived to collect Dill and got raised eyebrows from Hawkes, who sat on the sofa reading his GI Geequed comic. Those eyebrows were raised even higher when Dill walked out of the bedroom. She was once again wearing the short velvet dress. This time she also wore the sapphire earrings McQueen had bought her for their very first wedding anniversary, and a matching necklace with a sapphire pendant that fell to just above the swell of her breasts. On her feet she wore a pair of the highest heels McQueen had ever seen. She took one look at the dropped jaws of both men and gave them a twirl.

"You like?" she giggled. "I borrowed the shoes from Vanessa. Otherwise I would have had to wear those trainers you bought me.

"I like very much," McQueen almost drooled. He sniffed. "Perfume too?" For a moment he was tempted to forego his plans, as he could feel himself hardening already.

"Vanessa again," Dill smiled. "Apparently what they could salvage of my belongings will be arriving tomorrow. I'm so glad I stashed this necklace in Izzy's nappy bag though, in case anyone tried to steal it. I mean who'd look in amongst nappies?"

"You do realise you're only going to dinner at the officers mess, don't you?" Hawkes asked. "You look like you're going to some fancy restaurant."

"See Hawkes, that's the difference between me and you," McQueen smiled. "I went to the effort of asking the head chef real nice if he would make us something special for tonight. Of course it helps that he's a good friend of my father–in-law, so he was only too pleased to. It gives him a chance to prove that he really can cook." He looked at Dill and licked his lips. "Come on, gorgeous, let's go eat. I'm famished."

They'd had a lovely meal at a table laid especially for them in a corner of the mess, and to McQueen's amusement more than a few eyebrows raised sky high when they arrived at the Tun. He'd not even got angry when he overheard a comment about why would a woman like that be wasting her time with a tank. He'd just smiled to himself at the reply, which had been along the lines of the man was a fool - it was McQueen's wife he was lusting after, and if he so much as spoke to her, the 58th would wipe the floor with him.

Now as he closed the door to his quarters, Ty saw Dill watching him closely. He smiled at her and drew her into his arms for a kiss - a long, slow, languorous kiss - before he released her and kicked off his shoes, pulling her onto the bed with him.

"Oh Ty," Dill moaned, as he rained kisses on her face and neck, before burying his face in her breasts.

"I have a present for you," he whispered, his face close to hers.

"I can feel it," she sighed, as her hand slid down to knead him through his trousers.

"Not that," Ty groaned, getting up from the bed and rummaging in a drawer. "This."

"A camera? Ty, I have a camera." Dill was confused.

"But not one of these," Ty grinned wickedly. He lifted it and took a picture of her, grinning as seconds later out popped an instant photo. "I thought maybe we could make a start on that album of yours. If you want to."

"Really?" she whispered, her face glowing with delight.

He nodded and began slowly to remove his clothes. "Just my cover, wasn't it?"

Dill gulped. "Yes," she said in a very low voice.

There followed an active half hour or so while McQueen posed for pictures wearing little more than a smile. He managed to ensure that each time he moved or stood up he presented her with a view that would have her licking her lips. And eventually, after the film ran out, he was lying naked on the bed as she removed her dress, revealing the lacy black panties and stockings she wore.

"I think, Ty, that it's time to play," Dill giggled, running her hands up and down his body, stroking him gently, enjoying the feel of his muscles under her hands.

"Oh yeah," he moaned, as he felt her mouth clamp down on a nipple. He glanced quickly at the clock on the wall and smiled.

Suddenly the room filled with electronic crackling, and Lt. Crowe's voice could be heard. "Colonel McQueen, please report to the bridge on the double."

"Damn!" Dill cried. "Ty, no!" she pleaded, as he sat up and shrugged.

"Sorry, Dill - duty calls." Ty quickly dressed in his flight suit, and was lacing his boots almost before Dill had shimmied back into her dress. "Go back to your quarters, Dill. If I can, I'll join you later." He kissed her and ran from the room, trying not to laugh out loud. Withhold conjugal rights, would she, he chuckled.

The following evening, after Dill had put the children to bed, Ty arrived at her quarters with a smile on his face.

"We were interrupted last night," he murmured, taking her in his arms and pulling her in for a kiss.

She pulled him down onto the sofa and began unzipping his flight suit. "God, Ty, I could have screamed when you had to leave," she told him. "Tonight you're mine." Her hands slipped inside his suit, reaching under his turtleneck to stroke his chest and abdomen. She pushed the shirt up and sucked on his nipples.

"I'm tired, Dill," Ty groaned, faking a yawn. "Let me take a shower to wake up a bit." He sat up, shedding his clothes as he left the room and disappeared into the bathroom.

Dill sighed as she heard the water running, and gathered up his clothes, taking them into the bedroom.

He emerged wearing only a towel. "That feels better," he smiled. "Are you gonna take one?"

"I think so," she nodded.

Ty waited until he heard the water running, then he flung the towel off and leapt into bed, snuggled himself down, and fell asleep almost instantly, a skill picked up early in his life.

Dill came out of the bathroom and stood staring at him. He was flat on his back, mouth open snoring for all he was worth. "Good grief, Ty!" she exclaimed, giving him a shove to wake him up. All it did was get him to roll onto his side and snuggle with a pillow. Sighing, she turned out the lights and slid into bed beside him.

McQueen woke up to the feel of a warm body lying on top of him and a hand gently stroking his stomach. He lay there for a moment until he realised the body was far too small to be Dill. Opening his eyes, he saw Izzy examining his stomach thoroughly.

She looked up at him as he smiled at her. "Button?" she asked.

Ty shook his head. "Nope, don't have one."

"Blowing?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"Nope, can't inflate me using my belly button," he told her, smiling.

Izzy looked at him and then looked at his stomach again. With a frown she clambered off him and ran from the room. Minutes later she was back with the boys in tow. She clambered back up onto the bed and pulled the sheet down, revealing his flat, smooth belly. She turned to the boys. "Button!" she cried.

They stared at her. Then as one they lifted their pyjama tops and looked at their own belly buttons, whilst Izzy stared at Ty's flat stomach. Her gaze wandered further up his body, and her fingers reached to touch his nipples. She looked at the boys. "Got?" she asked.

Off came the boys' tops as they investigated to see if they too had nipples.

Her hand wandered to the scars puckering her father's chest. She frowned. "Ouchies?" she asked him.

Ty nodded. "Ouchies."

She turned to the boys. "Ouchies?"

Hamish shook his head. "Got a ouchie on my knee."

Izzy hadn't finished yet. Her hands flew over Ty's face and neck until her fingers touched his navel and he turned his head so she could see it. She leaned in close to get a good look at it, her finger gently poking at it, before with a grin she kissed it. "Mummy kisses," she smiled, before turning to the boys.

They turned and showed her their necks. "Not like daddy," Cameron told her. "We don't got that."

Izzy ran her hand over her father's head and though his short hair. She frowned as she looked at the boys. "Same?"

Cameron grinned, running his hand over his shaven head. His hair was just starting to grow back in. "Same," he chuckled.

To McQueen's amusement, his daughter continued with her examination of him, carefully investigating his armpits and arms, and checking the size of his hands against her own. As she wandered back onto his stomach and began pulling the sheet further down, he panicked and grabbed for the sheet.

Izzy frowned at him. "Daddy?" she queried.

"No, Izzy," he told her, fighting with her to keep hold of the sheet.

"Daddy!" she yelled at him. "Izzy look!"

He lay back and thought about it. Why was he worried? The children had seen both him and Dill naked often enough. He relaxed his grip on the sheet.

Izzy smiled at him, her big beaming smile that showed she knew she'd won. The sheet was pulled further down, uncovering him completely. She sat and stared at him for so long Ty began to feel mightily embarrassed. He jumped as he felt her touch him.

"No, Izzy," he said sternly. "No touching!"

"Only mummy touches," Hamish giggled.

Izzy stared at the boys. "Got?" she demanded.

Two pairs of pyjama bottoms hit the floor as the boys both climbed onto the bed.

"Penises," Hamish told her. "We's guys"

Izzy looked from McQueen to them, and back again. "Daddy big," she announced.

McQueen closed his eyes. He felt like he was in some surreal alternate universe.

"Daddy?"

He opened his eyes. "Yes, Hamish?"

"When we's growed up will we get a big penis too? And hairs?"

"Yes," Ty sighed. How come no one had warned him he'd one day be lying naked in his bed with two naked small boys and a toddler busy examining his private parts? He flinched as once again he felt Izzy touching him.

"No!" he snapped.

"Good grief! Is this a private orgy, or can I join in too?" Dill laughed from the doorway. She'd gone for a shower, and stood wearing only a towel. "Izzy, no touching daddy please. He said no."

Izzy scowled at her. "Mummy touch."

"Yes, darling, but that's a mummy and daddy thing. It's not for children." Dill sat on the bed and began rubbing her hair. "Boys, put your pyjamas back on please. And Izzy, cover daddy up."

Laughing, the boys pulled their clothes back on and ran from the room, followed by a scowling Izzy.

"What on earth was going on?" Dill asked him.

"She was fascinated by my lack of a navel. She got the boys in to compare. Then she examined me from top to bottom. She's a helluva lot brighter than I gave her credit for," Ty admitted. "I wasn't keen on her checking me out totally, but I figured they've all seen us naked. It was a bit late to turn prudish."

"That's true," she chuckled. "I don't blame her wanting to touch you though. I'd like to myself."

"Go on then," he whispered.

"Don't tempt me. The children are awake."

"Then kiss me instead," he smiled, reaching to pull her into his arms.

"If you insist," she giggled.

They were still lying there kissing when the children came back in, toys in hand, to play on the bed next to daddy.

Dill was delighted and sad, all at the same time. Her belongings had arrived from Mir. Almost everything was there, and all that had really been lost were toys from the children's room when the wall had ruptured. Everything in her bedroom had been parcelled up, and sent on to her aboard the Saratoga, along with a message that her contract had been cancelled and passage was being arranged back to earth for her.

She was determined to actually spend a whole night with Ty, preferably without any interruptions or him falling asleep. If she was going home she wanted to give him good memories before she left. She hated it when Cameron told her daddy was feeling sad and missed her.

"Okay guys, who wants to go to the gym and do some climbing?" she asked the children, who were sprawled on the floor, drawing.

Hamish looked up, thinking about it. "Nope," he said. "I wanna draw."

"Okay, but I think maybe we'll go and get some exercise after you finish drawing. Then we'll get you some dinner, and you can come back and watch a film while I put the Izzy to bed," she told them.

"Will daddy be here then?" Cameron asked.

"I'm not sure, my lover. He did say he'd meet us for lunch, but he didn't, did he?"

"Coop!" Izzy grinned.

"I know, my sweet. You love him to bits, don't you? Just don't forget who your daddy is," Dill smiled at her.

Cameron looked up at her. "Mummy, you're so silly. Izzy _knows_ who daddy is. He's her bestest. She just loves Coop too."

Dill smiled. "That's okay then, because I'm sure daddy would be sad if any of you forgot about him."

She got three patent McQueen glares, making her laugh out loud.

"Daddy's scared that you might kiss someone else when we go home," Cameron told her. "Who will you kiss, mummy?"

"Why would I want to kiss anyone else? Daddy gives me the best kisses. I don't want anyone else's, only you guys," Dill said, surprised.

"He gets sad about it sometimes," Cameron told her, before turning his attention back to his drawing.

"Well, when you feel that he's sad, you let him know that I'm waiting for his kisses," Dill smiled.

Cameron looked up at her. "I'll try."

"Thank you. Now then, shall we go to the gym?" she tried again.

"Okay mummy," Hamish said with an exasperated sigh. "If you want us to."

"Of course we could go swimming instead, if you'd prefer?" Dill said. "Now that our things have arrived we all have swimming costumes."

All three children brightened at that. "Yes, please!" Hamish almost yelled.

"Wimmin!" crowed Izzy.

Even Cameron smiled. "Can daddy come too?"

"Yes, I can," McQueen said as he came through the door. "I'm sorry I missed you for lunch. Glen and I were busy. We worked through and had a sandwich brought to us." He kissed Dill and bent to hug and kiss the children. "So, where are we going?"

"Swimming," Dill smiled. "I take it you do have a costume?"

"Of course. I like swimming. I can think while I do lengths," he told her, whilst trying to sound affronted.

"I hope it's not a pair of tiny Speedos," Dill winked. "They show far too much."

"Dylan McQueen!" Ty chuckled. "You really do have a one track mind. You really think I'd wear tiny swim trunks?"

"Oh no. Knowing you it's probably a full body suit!" she giggled. "Which is fine by me."

McQueen grabbed her round the waist and lifted her off the floor. "Iona is right, you really are a monster!" he laughed, kissing her.

"How can you say that?" Dill chuckled. "And I thought you loved me!"

"I do, and that's why my swim trunks are shorts. Nice sensible navy blue shorts. No one sees more than I want them to." Ty kissed her again. "Come on then, are we swimming or not?"

A chorus of 'yes daddys' rang out as the children, excited by his sudden arrival, danced about his legs.

Dill sat on the edge of the pool, Izzy beside her splashing her feet in the water. Dill watched as Ty played with the boys, diving under the water, coming up underneath them and throwing them into the air to land back with almighty splashes. Hamish had early on realised that if he jumped as Ty threw him he could land with an even bigger splash. Cameron, however, wasn't happy with the splashing involved. Dill could see the look on his face, and knew he was close to reaching his limit. Soon there would be tears.

"Ty!" she called, as he yet again launched Hamish into the air. Her husband looked up and swam over to her.

"Yes, my sweet?" he grinned. "You want a turn?"

"I think you'd better offer Cameron a way to back out gracefully. He's trying really hard, but he doesn't really like it. I think it's all getting a bit much for him," she whispered as he came in close to her.

McQueen turned and looked at Cameron. He was swimming towards the edge of the pool, away from Hamish, who was diving down and splashing up. Ty turned back and pulled himself out of the water, leaning to kiss Dill as he did so. "You know, if these kids weren't here, I'd lock the door and …."

"I thought it was me who had the one track mind!" Dill laughed.

"Well, if you will sit there looking so deliciously edible," he grinned, before diving back into the water and swimming over to Cameron. "Hey, little guy, fancy a swim on my back? I'm too tired to throw you up into the air any more."

Cameron grinned and clung onto his back as McQueen ploughed through the water towards the far end of the pool. Dill smiled. Ty'd wondered about Hamish's ability in the water. The little boy swam like a fish. Watching McQueen, she knew exactly where he'd got it.

"I'm going to get Izzy dressed now," she called. "Her little feet are turning blue. I'll take her and get her some dinner, then put her to bed. Will you be able to manage with the boys?"

McQueen swam over to her, Cameron still on his back. "If you ask him, Hawkes will baby-sit for you. Then you can come and eat with me and the boys. Unless…," he smirked, "you ask him to baby-sit for them as well, and we go and eat once we've put them to bed."

"I'll ask him to see after Izzy for me, and I'll come eat with you and the boys. Then we'll put them to bed," she smiled. "And if you're a good boy, I'll put you to bed, too."

"Is that a promise?" Ty whispered, pulling her head down to kiss her.

"Absolutely," she murmured.

"Good, because that patch is still clinging to my butt," he grinned. "It'd be a shame to waste it."

"It's had hardly any use at all," she sighed. "I do have some wonderful pictures though."

"And if you _ever_ show them to anyone, I _will_ divorce you," he told her seriously.

"Oh no. They're strictly for me, when I'm missing you like mad," she giggled, standing and picking Izzy up. "Come on, dumpling, let's go get dressed."

"Come on, Daddy, more!" Cameron urged.

"Yes, sir!" McQueen chuckled, and ploughed back through the water towards Hamish, as Cameron squealed in delight.

After dinner in the mess, during which McQueen waved over Corporal Hudson to come and say hello to Dill and the boys, McQueen was in the bathroom. Having showered both boys, he was getting them to brush their teeth.

"Daddy?" Cameron asked as he stood on a stool in front of the sink.

"Yeah?" McQueen replied absently as he squeezed the toothpaste.

"Did your daddy make you brush your teeth before you went to bed?"

"Er…," he hesitated. "I didn't have a daddy. I had to learn how to brush my teeth by myself."

"But your mummy could have showed you!" Hamish declared loudly.

"I didn't have a mummy either," he told the astonished boys.

"Everyone has a mummy," Cameron said, in a tone of voice that implied his father was seriously stupid.

"No, that's not true. Cooper doesn't have a mummy or daddy either, and neither does grandpa."

Hamish stared at him, unsure whether to believe him or not. "But daddy, you growed in your mummy's tummy, just like Izzy growed in mummy's."

"No I didn't. I grew in a growth tank. That's a special place for babies who don't have mummies or daddies. I grew in there until I was all grown up."

Both boys stared at him in disbelief.

"Daddy, you's making it up!" Hamish accused. "McQueen's don't tell lies, daddy!"

"No, I'm not. You can ask mummy if you want, but in the morning. Right now it's time for bed," he told them.

"That's not fair daddy," Cameron cried.

"Yes, it is. It's time to say goodnight. I'll read you a story, and tomorrow you can ask mommy about it. But it's my turn to have mommy all to myself now." He shooed them out of the bathroom and into their bedroom. "Don't wake Izzy," he whispered.

Ty supervised the boys as they ensured that Stirrup, who he'd moved in with them once they were onboard, had fresh water and food. And then after forcing them to wash their hands again, he tucked both boys into bed and read them a story. Before he'd finished it both were sound asleep. He kissed them and crept out to see Dill.

She was stretched out on the sofa, her eyes closed. He crept over and laid himself full length on top of her.

"Hey Dill," Ty breathed in her ear, making her squirm.

"Hey handsome," Dill sighed, her hands reaching to stroke his back. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable."

McQueen stood and reached for her, pulling her up and into his arms he swung her up off her feet, and carried her into the bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and knelt between her legs, pulling her shirt out of her jeans and slowly undoing each button, his eyes fixed on her face as she watched him. Once he had the shirt undone, he slid it to the sides, revealing the flimsy black lace bra she wore. With a smile, he bent to suckle the nipples he could see peeking through the lace.

Dill moaned as she felt his hot mouth engulfing her, suckling and gently biting at each nipple until they were hardened nubs. Lifting his head, Ty took hold of her bra with both hands and ripped it, revealing her breasts fully to him as, once again, he bent his head to lavish attention on them, his hands this time sliding down her body to undo her jeans.

"Do you have any idea how much that bra cost you?" Dill groaned, as Ty's mouth moved downwards kissing his way to her navel.

"I don't care," he said softly. "It had to come off."

"Now I'll have panties that don't match," she gasped, as his tongue began to swirl around her navel, every so often dipping into it.

"Are you wearing them now?" Ty asked, a glint in his eye.

"Yes," she said tentatively, wondering what he was going to do.

With a smirk, Ty moved lower and dragged Dill's jeans down her legs, revealing the tiny black lace panties she wore. He climbed off the bed and fully removed her jeans, before once again kneeling between her feet. This time his hands gripped her thighs firmly as he bent his head to her underwear. He glanced up, grinning wickedly.

"Ty, no!" Dill squealed, wriggling to get away from him.

"I think so," Ty chuckled. "Can't have you wearing unmatched undies, can we?" He gently gripped her panties in his teeth and tugged on them, trying not to laugh as she shrieked when, with a violent tug, they tore and came away in his mouth. "There you go, no need to worry about it now."

"You're awful!" she squawked, as his tongue prodded at her.

Dill hands flew to his head, fingers trying to grip his short hair, as he began to suckle on her clit whilst gently inserting two fingers inside her and stroking her softly. She moved her legs, giving him easier access, and with his spare hand he lifted her hips higher as he pumped her faster and harder with his fingers. When he had her gasping for breath, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, and gently rubbed her clit with a thumb, until feeling her body tense and her legs start to tremble. He gripped her hips firmly and sucked, licking and thrusting for all he was worth, until she was crying out his name as she came onto his face. Ty waited for her to finish shaking and licked her clean, before moving up the bed to lift her shoulders and remove the shirt and remains of her bra. He laid her back down and gently stroked her stomach until her eyes opened and she grinned at him.

"I know there's a God. Otherwise we would have been interrupted again." She smiled up at him contentedly. "Ty, my lover, you have far too many clothes on." Dill sat up and pushed him onto his back. Climbing off the bed, she knelt to remove his boots and socks. "These are going," she grinned. "Making love whilst wearing your socks is a real turn off."

Ty lay back and enjoyed it as she moved to unzip his flight suit, reaching inside to stroke his chest and stomach before pulling him up and slipping it off his shoulders and down his arms. The turtleneck came off next, and the tank top underneath it. Dill laid him back down and massaged his chest.

"Feeling cold, were you?" she smiled. "I'll warm you up." She straddled his hips and began to trace the outlines of his scars with her finger, followed by her mouth gently kissing each scar and licking it, tracing it with her tongue.

Ty lay with his hands reaching to knead her breasts as she bent over him, tweaking at her nipples as she began grinding herself into his hips. With a sigh, she moved off him and tugged the flight suit down his legs and off, quickly followed by his boxers, before once again straddling him and continuing with her caresses down his chest and stomach until she reached his erection.

"Hmmm," Dill murmured before taking him whole into her mouth, making him buck his hips upwards as she sucked him hard. Once she had him bucking furiously, she let him go with a final suck, smiling as he cried out for her not to stop. She turned, and watching him over her shoulder, used two fingers inside herself until they were wet and dripping with her moistness. Then she positioned herself over him and slid down onto his length as she gently slid a finger inside him.

"Dill!" Ty gasped, as her finger found his prostate instantly and stroked it gently as she began to slide up and down him. He grabbed her hips and held her steady as he thrust to meet her, not sure if he was thrusting towards her fingers or upwards to meet her as she slammed down on his aching cock. His hands kneaded her buttocks as he wished she were facing him so he could pull her down to suckle on her breasts. He tried to tell her to turn around, but Dill's fingers were stroking him faster, and he could barely breathe, let alone speak. Ty's whole body shook with the force of the orgasm she gave him. He was convinced something inside him had burst as she rode him relentlessly, drawing out every drop of semen she could, before she slid off him and again took him in her mouth, sucking him dry.

Dill crept up Ty's body until she was lying on top of him, and he wrapped his arms around her. Kissing him, she gently stroked a hand through his hair, stopping to trace the outlines of his ear, her finger very softly stroking a tiny mole on his right ear before she moved to kiss it, her breath hot on it.

"I love you, Tyrus McQueen," she breathed. "Right down to this tiny, little mole. I love you so much it hurts unbearably when you have to leave me. Don't leave me any more, Ty. Come home with us. Come home forever."

"I wish I could, Dill. I know how much it hurts. It hurts me too. You don't mean it. You know you don't. After the war I'm yours, forever and for always. I promise." Ty hugged her close, hearing the small sobs as she cried into his neck. "Don't, Dill. Please don't cry." He rolled them over so that he could hold her more comfortably and waited for the sobs to subside. "What brought that on?" he asked, once she was calmer.

"I got notice today that my contract is cancelled, and arrangements are being made to take me and the children home," she said in a tiny voice. "I don't want to go, Ty. I want to stay here with you. I miss you so much. Don't make me go, Ty. Please. Let me stay with you."

"A carrier is no place for you and the children, Dill. It's not safe. The 'Toga's usually right on the frontlines. We're only here now because we took a helluva beating recently and need repairs." Ty stroked her hair, wondering why now? Why suddenly now was Dill losing it? She'd never behaved like this before.

"I'll send the children home to mother, but let me stay, please. I promise not to get in the way, and I'll stay in your quarters if that's what you want," she pleaded.

"No, Dill, you can't stay. I'm sorry. It's not safe, and I need to know you and the children are safe at home, waiting for me."

"Please, Ty," she wept, burying her head in his chest. "There must be something I can do to make myself useful."

He lifted her head and kissed her tears away. "This isn't like you, Dill. There's something else going on that I don't know about, isn't there?"

She shook her head. "I just need you so much I can't cope anymore," she whispered.

"Yes, you can," Ty told her. "You have to, for the children's sake. For mine. You have to take care of them, Dill. Concentrate on them, those three monkeys of ours. Hell, if you really want me to, I'll rip this patch off and do my damnest to send you home carrying another. Give you something to take your mind off missing me."

Dill looked up into his face. "You don't want any more children."

"Yes, I do, but I wanted to wait until I could be there the whole time. If it would help you to have another now, then I'll willingly do my best to oblige."

"I don't want another child. I want you," she said seriously.

"I'll remind you of that next time you're bugging me about babies," Ty smiled. "Now come on up here and give me a kiss because I want you too."

He moved so that Dill could feel his erection pressing against her thigh. He rolled her onto her back, and positioning himself so that he was pushing against her hot core, kissed her. His tongue gently but insistently pushed into her mouth, tasting her. He ran his tongue around her lips, sucking gently on her bottom lip. He pulled back and looked at her. She had her eyes closed, and for a second he wondered if she was asleep.

"Why're you stopping, flyboy?" Dill complained, as her eyes opened to look at him. "It's awful bad manners to be such a tease."

"I'm a tease?" he smiled. "We'll see about that!"

TY reached to hold her shoulders and slid himself inside her with one mighty thrust. Pausing only to kiss her some more before he started to move, he built slowly to the hard, fast pace he knew she liked. He bent and licked at a nipple as he continued his thrusts, feeling her hands on his shoulders, her breath hot against his neck as she urged him on, her legs wrapped firmly around his waist. He released his hold on her shoulders and shifted her legs, lifting them to his shoulders as he increased his pace. "Dill," he cried, as he felt his own climax approaching. Grabbing at her shoulders again, he pushed himself as hard as he could, feeling her thrusting upwards to meet him.

"Come on, flyboy," she moaned. "Faster than that."

"I'm going as fast as I can," Ty gasped, dropping his head onto her shoulder, but using reserves of strength he didn't know he had to thrust even faster.

He felt Dill's body tense as her orgasm peaked - the sudden rigidity of her limbs - before, with a tremendous sigh, her whole body relaxed and she lay calm and smiling as his body begged for release. Ty closed his eyes as his body took over, and cried out as he felt her muscles contracting around his thrusting cock. He opened his eyes to see her smiling up at him, reaching out to pull his head down for a kiss, her hand gently kneading his shoulders as the muscles quivered from the strain. Seconds later he came, emptying himself into her as he collapsed on top of her, his mouth firmly clamped to hers.

Ty broke the kiss to breathe. "I love you so much, Dill," he gasped. "Please don't be sad any more."

She looked up into his worried face, and smiling, stroked his jaw. "I scared you, didn't I? I'm sorry. I know you'd be at home with me if you could be. I know I have the children to look after. I just miss you more than I can possibly say."

"I miss you too, Dill. And the children," Ty said, as he rolled onto his back and pulled her in for a hug.

"I know you do, my lover," Dill sighed as she snuggled close. "Would you really be prepared to try getting me pregnant again?"

"Yes, if that's truly what you want. If it would help you not miss me. I'd try."

"And you wonder why I love you," she smiled. "That's why, Ty. Because even though you don't really want more children, you'd still try to make me happy."

"I'd do anything for you, Dill. You know that, don't you?"

Dill heard the fear in his voice. Seeing her cry had really frightened him, she realised. She hadn't given into her feelings like that in front of him for quite a while, and he probably was scared that his capable Dill wouldn't be able to look after him anymore.

She heaved a great weary sigh. "Yes, my lover, I know that. Bbut even I sometimes need to let it out, Ty. The only person I talk to about it is Iona. She gives me the support I'd get from you if you were there. Mother tries, but I can't talk to her the way I talk to Iona. I need support too, Ty. I'm not superhuman. I can only take so much before I lose it. I'm sorry I scared you, but I need you to be strong for me too. This should be a two way thing, not the one way street it is now. I'm not your mother. I'm your wife. I need my husband to be strong. To be my comfort, my support... Not always, but sometimes. And after all this time I shouldn't have to tell you when I need you to be there for me. You should be able to tell that for yourself."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's not enough, Ty. Sorry just isn't enough. You're not a child. You're twenty six years old. You offer comfort and support to the 58th. Why not to me? You can do it. You have done it, but you so rarely do. Do you really feel that you can only do that as Colonel McQueen? Because I married him as well. Why doesn't he ever take care of me? He used to. He did when Cameron was pining. He took total control. It was lovely. I felt completely cared for... completely safe. Lately, however, he's hidden away, and I've had this dependant, clingy child who looks to me for comfort."

Dill looked up at Ty and sighed as she saw the worry in his eyes.

"Do you hate me?" he asked, his voice small and childlike, perfectly illustrating her point.

"Of course not, but I married a man who regressed to a child. I know that as you've grown more comfortable and secure, you've let your demons out. And that's because you're not afraid I'll change my mind and decide I don't love you anymore. But I'm left to deal with those demons all by myself. I'm glad that the last two times you flipped mother was there to help me cope, because I don't know how well I would have otherwise."

McQueen lay there thinking about what she had said. "You're right," he finally said. "I do rely on you far too much."

"That's not what I'm saying, Ty. You should be able to rely on me, just as I should be able to rely on you. What I'm trying to get across is that we should be equal partners in this marriage. Yes, I'll be there when you need me to be. I'll offer you comfort, and I'll support you when you need it. But I need you to do the same thing for me. Currently you very rarely do. I know you desperately need a mother sometimes, and that's okay. I can deal with that. But I never need another baby. What I need is a husband. Someone who'll see that I've had enough and can't cope any more. Who'll hold me and tell me that everything will be okay. A husband who'll take charge and let me just rely on him. "

"I thought I did, when you cried earlier," he said, confused. "I don't understand."

"Even then, Ty, it was what you needed. You needed me at home. You needed to know we were safe. Well, what about what I need? I need to know that you're safe. I need you at home. I need you to take charge for once... to say, 'Hey, Dill, I can see you're feeling sad. Come here to me. Let me hold you. Tell me all about it. Let me make it better.' But you don't. You come running into my arms, just like the children do. You've had a bad day, so what do you do? You clamp yourself around my breast and comfort suckle. That's okay to a point, and I really don't mind, but I need you doing the same for me occasionally. And don't even say it, Ty! If you say I can suck your nipples anytime, I swear it won't be the chigs who hurt you. It'll be me!"

Ty was quiet for a while as he thought about what she'd said. "I'm sorry, Dill. I didn't realise how you felt. You're right. After six years I should know, but I've been too busy being happy that I've found someone to take care of me, to see that I need to take care of you too. I'll try, I promise. I can't guarantee success all the time, but I swear I'll try not to burden you too much."

"You still don't get it, do you? It's not about being a burden. I'm your wife. You should be able to share your burden with me. You hear that? The word is share. I'm happy to share your burdens, Ty, but you offload them onto me. You need to learn that you can't always do that. I'll help you with them, and you help me with mine. That's how it should be. Sharing, and taking care of each other."

"I'll try," Ty whispered.

"That's all I ask," Dill said wearily, smiling as she felt his arms tighten around her.

"Go to sleep, Dill. Go on. I'll get up if I hear the kids in the night. You need to get a good night's sleep for a change," he said softly.

"See? You can do it when you think about it," Dill smiled.

"I'm going to do my best to be a proper husband to you, Dill. Not another child."

"Good boy," she yawned.

"Trouble is you keep saying things like that. You've mothered me for so long it'll be a hard habit to break."

"I don't want to break the habit. Sometimes you need it. But sometimes I need you to mother me, and you seem incapable of recognising those times."

"Go to sleep. Let me think about what you've said. I know you're right. Hilary tells me so all the time, but I like you looking after me. I need to learn to look after you. I need to think. Sleep, Dill. Go to sleep," Ty told her, kissing her forehead.

"Yes, Ty."

He lay there, his mind turning over everything she'd said, smiling to himself as he heard her start to softly snore in his arms.

Ty still lay awake an hour later. Looking at the clock on the wall, he saw that it was likely that Ross would still be about. Slipping out of bed, he quickly got dressed and went to talk to him.

"Who's at my hatch?" came Ross's familiar growl.

"McQueen, sir."

"Come on in."

As McQueen stepped through the doorway, Ross quirked an eyebrow. "I didn't expect to see you tonight. Or are you still doing the dirty on Dylan?"

McQueen looked at him. "Doing the dirty?" he asked.

"You asked Lt. Crowe to call you back to the bridge at exactly 23:05. Did you think he wouldn't put it in his report? The whole ship knows you wined and dined your wife that night, Ty, so why the getaway?" Ross chuckled. "Help yourself to a drink, and I'll have another rum."

"Ah, that," McQueen smiled, as he poured them both a drink. "Let's just call it payback. Except she doesn't know that's what it was, so I guess it didn't really work."

"Dare I ask payback for what?" Ross queried, taking his drink from McQueen.

"It's probably best we don't go into that," McQueen grinned, sitting down. "I need to talk to you, Glen. I need your help."

"Well, that's what friends are for, Ty. If I can help, you know I will." Ross reached for Rosalyn, his guitar, and began to softly strum.

"It's about Dill," McQueen started. "She said some things to me tonight, and I don't know what to do about it."

Ross looked at him. "Have you been pissing her off again, Ty? What did you do this time?"

"It's more a case of what I didn't do. How the hell am I supposed to know when everything has all got too much for her? I mean, she copes with everything I throw at her. How am I supposed to know?"

"Oh no, I'm not getting involved in one of those discussions." Ross shook his head. "When's your next session with Hilary?"

"Tomorrow. Why?"

"Get over to my net link and send her a mail saying that you and Dylan need to speak to her tomorrow. And tell her briefly what about," Ross told him.

McQueen got up and did as he was told. Sitting back down, he asked, "Why, Glen?"

"Because this is your marriage we're talking about here. You have a professional therapist - let her help you both with this."

McQueen gaped at him. "You think it's that serious? Dill might leave me?"

"Don't put words in my mouth," Ross told him. "Now get out of here. Go back to your wife, hold her tight, and tell her you love her. That'll help till you speak to Hilary tomorrow."

Downing his drink, and with even more fear in his mind, McQueen said goodnight and went back to Dill. He undressed slowly and slipped back into bed with her, his heart leaping as she rolled over into his arms and mumbled his name in her sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Small Miracles 6.

Due to the vagaries of ships' time and satellite connections, Dill and Ty sat in Ross' quarters at 07:33, ready to speak to Hilary. Dill was not happy, and had told him so in no uncertain terms, hence the long faces they both wore. McQueen had woken her earlier with soft, gentle kisses, and they'd spent an enjoyable hour making each other feel good before he'd broken the news to her. She'd instantly accused him of trying to 'butter her up', and had been in a foul mood ever since.

"Please, Dill," he pleaded. "Hilary can help us. She can help us to see it clearly. I'm sorry about earlier. I swear that had nothing to do with this."

"Yes it did. You just wanted to get me in a good mood before you told me you'd set this up!" she snapped at him. "You're a bloody, sneaky shit!"

"Don't, Dill!" he cried. "Don't be like this, please."

"Stop it, Ty, just stop it. You're a grown man. Stop whining and start acting like one!"

"Children, please!" came Hilary's voice over the link. "I can see we have our work cut out for us. It's a good job that today I can give you as long as you need." She smiled at them. "So, who's going to tell me what the matter is? T.C.?"

Glancing at Dill's scowling face, Ty turned to the vid screen. "Last night Dill said some things to me. She's right. You're right. But I don't know what to do," he told Hilary.

"That's what you said in your mail, T.C., but what things? Why don't you know?" Hilary asked.

"I told him that it's about bloody time he took care of me once in a while!" Dill growled. "It's always me telling him that everything will be okay. That I love him and won't let anything bad happen to him. I'm always the one comforting him. Well, I need comfort too, and I don't get it!"

"Dill's fed up being my mother," Ty said, his voice low. "She doesn't want to take care of me anymore. All I do is behave like a child and expect her to make everything better."

"That is so not true!" Dill exclaimed. "I never said any such thing! What I said was that this is a marriage, and as such it should be a two way thing. You should support and comfort me when I need it. You should take care of me sometimes. There are times when I need you to be strong for me... to tell me that you'll make it all better. I need a husband who's an equal partner in this marriage, not another child who comes running to mummy whenever he can."

McQueen hung his head.

"I see," Hilary frowned. "At last, Dylan, you've woken up to the fact that yours has always been an unequal partnership. May I ask what made you realise?"

"Cameron was hurt, and Ty worried constantly that it was his fault. I found myself reassuring him at all hours of the day and night. Not once, not one single time did it occur to him just how scared I was for Cameron. Did he ask me if I was okay? No. Did he wrap his arms around me and tell me that everything would be all right? No."

"I've discussed this with both of you. Obviously, Dylan, you weren't ready to accept it. You've mothered him and taken control for far too long…."

"But what else was I supposed to do? I love him, and don't want to see him feeling hurt and distressed. He needed to be taken care of," Dill said curtly.

"You encouraged him to be dependant on you. You encouraged him to breastfeed from you. You firmly ensconced in his mind that you are his mother figure. What else could you expect? If he has a problem, he takes it to you. Time and time again you've shown him that you can deal with anything he throws at you. What you needed to be doing was talking it through with him, helping him find ways to cope with it himself," Hilary told her.

"Easy for you to say - you weren't there! I did, and still do, the best I can. I'm sorry if it's not good enough for you."

"On the contrary, Dylan, I think you've helped him tremendously. And now you realise it's time for him to grow up. And his problem, I'd say, is that he doesn't understand what you want from him," Hilary replied calmly.

McQueen nodded. "Dill has always coped so well. This is only the third time I've seen her scared and crying like this. It frightened me, and I didn't know what to do," he admitted.

"What did you do on the other two occasions?" Hilary asked.

"The first time was when she went into labour early with the boys." Ty looked over at Dill before carrying on. "When I got to sickbay she looked so scared... so fragile. I held her in my arms and told her everything would be okay."

"And was it?"

"Eventually, yes. But I didn't know if it would be when I said it," he told her.

"Dylan? Did that matter at the time?"

"No, if course it didn't. I needed to have him hold me. I knew he couldn't fix it if something went wrong. I just needed him to be there for me, to be strong for me when I couldn't be. I was scared and he comforted me." She turned to McQueen. "See? You _can_ do it, Ty. You do know how."

"When else, T.C.?" Hilary prompted.

"When I was in hospital getting my new leg, Dill just broke down and cried. I held her in my arms and did the things she does to me. I stroked her hair... talked softly to her... told her it would all be okay." Ty smiled. "I liked it. I wished I could it more often, but she's so capable normally. So strong herself. That's why I love her. Or one reason, anyway. She's not the 'poor little old me' type." He smiled apologetically at Dill. "I'm sorry, Dill. I guess I'm so used to you coping with everything I throw at you, that it never occurred to me that you need to let it all out too. It seems like all our time together is spent with you telling me it'll be okay. You making me feel better. I'm sorry, Dill. You're right. I should be able to tell when you need a hug. I'll try to do better, I promise." He reached over and squeezed Dill's hand.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, McQueen," Dill said mournfully, lifting his hand to kiss the palm.

"T.C., why do you think you should be able to tell how Dylan is feeling?" Hilary asked, having carefully watched the interaction between the two.

"It's as Dill says - we've been together for six years. She can read me like a book. I still have no idea when she's had enough. I should be able to by now, surely?" he reasoned.

"Six years the pair of you have been together. But in that time how long have you actually spent together? Work it out for me," Hilary addressed them both.

"Well, we met when Dill first came to the 'Toga. You spent what four... five weeks?" he turned to Dill, his face thoughtful.

"Four it was," Dill smiled. With his face all screwed up, Ty looked just like Hamish did when he was asked a difficult question. "And then you came to visit me at home. That was two weeks."

"Yes, and your mother was horrible to me," he smiled.

"Oh, she was a cow, wasn't she?" Dill grinned. "We spent that week at Glen's beach house. That's when I got pregnant with the boys."

"And I asked you to marry me," Ty smiled shyly at her. "I was so scared you'd say no."

"There was never any chance of that, my lover," Dill told him.

"That's what, seven weeks so far?" Hilary prompted.

"Then I came to the 'Toga carrying Izzy. I stayed for what, about a month? Izzy was about three weeks old when you took us home," Dill offered.

"No, you forgot that I got leave in time for the boys' first birthday." McQueen turned to Hilary. "We actually got to spend our first wedding anniversary together. Thirty days I had, because we went to see Rhonda and had a few days at their beach house again. That's where you got pregnant with Izzy."

"Oh, and I met Amy," Dill chuckled. "God, what a day that was!"

"So, since then?" Hilary pushed.

"Umm," Dill pondered, "Ty had a week after that, when he got his promotion."

"And on the way back I lost my foot and got my new one. Three months I was home," McQueen sighed.

"Gosh, Ty, that was a year ago!" Dill exclaimed.

"Yeah, but I've had leave since then, too - two months ago I got leave. Two whole weeks at home with you and the children."

"So in total, in the six years you've known each other, you've only actually been together for roughly eight months," Hilary told them, smiling at their shocked faces. "Had you never worked it out before?"

"No," Dill whispered.

McQueen just sat dumbfounded.

"It's hardly surprising, is it Dylan, that he doesn't know you as well as you'd like him too. What is surprising is that you know him so well. And believe me, you do. Do you tell him how you feel, Dylan? At all? Do you say 'I've had a crappy day. I really need a hug', or tell him that you can't cope?" Hilary asked her.

"No, I don't," Dill confessed. "Or if I do, it's very rarely."

"Why? Don't you think he's up to it?"

"I don't know why. I guess I've always been the sort who just gets on with it," Dill admitted.

"Even though you now have a husband to help you cope?" Hilary asked.

"But I don't, do I? Most of the time he's not there, and it's not as if I can just pick up the phone and talk to him. I just have to get on with it myself. I don't have any other option," Dill told her.

"But you could tell me when I'm home," Ty said softly.

"If I did that you'd think all I ever did was moan. No, our time together is far too precious to spend it telling you how awful I feel. From the moment you walk through the door with that happy smile on your face my stomach begins to churn because I know it won't be long before I'm saying goodbye to you," she said hesitantly.

"Oh Dill," he cried, getting up and kneeling in front of her, "I didn't know that. I'm so sorry." Ty wrapped his arms around her.

"Of course you didn't know, T.C. She never told you. But she's telling you now. So what are you going to do about it?" Hilary asked him.

"I don't know," he said defeatedly. "What can I do? I can't not come home. I need to come home to you, but I hate leaving you too, Dill."

"It's okay," Dill murmured, her arms slipping around him, hugging him tightly.

"See? You're doing it again, Dylan. You're reassuring him at your own expense. It's not okay. Tell him the truth," Hilary scolded her.

"The truth? He can't handle the truth. He already feels miserable enough when he's away from us. Why should I make him even more miserable?"

"Try me," Ty said softly, sitting back in his seat, but still holding her hand.

"I don't want you to leave us any more. I want you to stay at home with the children and me. I want to climb into bed beside you every night and feel you hold me. I want to be able to make love with you regularly. I want to wake up to the sound of you laughing with the children, to you singing in the shower, to the sound of you yelling at Humphrey to get off you, to the smell of you burning the breakfast. What do I get instead? An empty bed and children who wake up in the night crying for their daddy. Animals that have to be fed and watered, and letters that tell me lots about Glen and the 58th, a little about the war and next to nothing about how you're feeling... whether you miss us or not. Hell Ty, you even sign them 'McQueen'. Not 'lots of love' or 'missing you', but plain old 'McQueen'. I want to grow old with you, not worry about whether I'm going to get a yellow envelope in the mail. I know how close I came to getting at least one of those before Izzy was born." Dill saw his startled look. "Oh, you don't tell me, but Cooper tells Iona. And he was most upset that he wasn't allowed to stay behind with you, or that the search team didn't go back for you straightaway."

"You never said a word," Ty exclaimed. "How long have you known?"

"Since Cooper told Iona, so about eighteen months. Maybe more." She smiled woefully at him. "See? You don't tell me things like that because you don't want to worry me, and I don't tell you how sad I am for the same reason. Neither of us wants to spoil the short time we get to spend together. We want to make the most of it - make sure we both have happy memories to tide us over until your next leave."

"And that is the root of your problems," Hilary interrupted. "The two of you need to communicate more. You obviously love each other very much, but sometimes that's just not enough. You need to let each other know how you're feeling. T.C. does it, but he does it in a way that forces you to mother him. He needs to learn how not to do that, and you need to learn how to tell him how you feel without making him feel inadequate."

Dill turned to McQueen. "Do I make you feel inadequate?" she asked, horrified.

"Well…," he started.

"Oh God, Ty, I'm so sorry. I had no idea. I've always tried to be supportive and not put you down, and I obviously haven't succeeded." Tears welled up, and she rubbed at her eyes.

"No, Dill, you don't. Sometimes you give me that look because I've done something stupid involving the kids, but you never make me feel inadequate." McQueen glared at Hilary. "That's unfair, Hilary. I've never said that ever, because it's not true." He turned back to Dill. "Don't cry, Dill, please."

He was out of his seat and picking her up to hug before she knew what he'd done. He sat back down with her on his lap and glared at Hilary. "Now see what you've done!" he growled. He stroked Dill's back as she sobbed into his chest, clinging to him the way the children did.

"I think that the best thing for you would be proper couples' therapy," Hilary said. "I know of a retreat that has an excellent reputation. It's residential, and it's a two week course helping you to communicate with each other. If ever I saw a couple who would benefit, it's you two. I'll look into it. But in the meantime I want you to start talking to each other. Pick a time when the children won't interrupt you - when you go to bed perhaps - and really tell each other how you're feeling. Do you think you can do that for me?"

McQueen just glared at Hilary. Moving her hair out of the way, he spoke softly into Dill's ear. "Well, do you think you could bear it?"

Dill shook her head so violently that her whole body trembled, and Ty was forcefully reminded that she sat on his lap. She squirmed around to face the vid screen, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. McQueen groaned softly as she settled herself more comfortably in his lap.

"No, Hilary," she said. "I'm not going to one of those places, and I'm not putting Ty through all the attention and comments he'd get. You know as well as we do that in such a close quartered environment, if someone took a dislike to 'the dirty tank', it would make the whole experience miserable. And I'm certainly not putting him through group therapy."

"Don't you think that it should be T.C. deciding whether he wants to try it or not?" Hilary asked her. "After all, there are two of you in your marriage, as you pointed out."

Dill turned back to face Ty, her eyes widening at the expression on his face as she twisted in his lap. "Do you want to go Ty? If you do, we'll go."

"No," he said, his voice cracking as Dill deliberately wriggled. Now she was aware of his arousal, she was going to exploit it to the full.

"There you go then, Hilary. Neither of us wants to go. I'm sorry," Dill stated matter of factly.

"I couldn't get leave anyway!" McQueen squawked as Dill ground herself onto his erection.

"We have to finish now," Hilary told them. "But I'll check that information out and we'll discuss it at your next session, T.C. With you too, Dylan, if you're here. Bye"

"Bye," McQueen croaked.

"Bye, Hilary, and thank you," Dill smiled. Turning back to McQueen, she grinned. "Got anything there I can help you with, flyboy?"

"Hell yes," he gasped, grabbing her and standing up. He threw her over his shoulder, turned off the vid viewer, and practically ran from the room in the direction of his quarters, Dill giggling loudly as they flew through the hallways.

The door to his quarters banged as he kicked it shut with his foot, before throwing Dill onto the bed and almost leaping on top of her. She laughed as he rained kisses on her face, her throat, and her neck, before tugging at the sweater she wore so that he could kiss her stomach. His hands held her sweater up as he nuzzled his face into her breasts, licking and nipping at her nipples through the lace of her bra. Dill's hands worked on his flight suit, pulling the zip as far down as she could. She slipped her hands inside and under his turtleneck, stroking and squeezing his back. She gasped as he pressed himself against her and she could feel the hardness of his erection pushing at her.

Still kneading her breasts, tweaking and rolling her nipples, Ty kissed his way down Dill's body, stopping to suck and lick at her navel, dipping his tongue inside until she squirmed and groaned, her hands gripping his shoulders.

Taking his hands from her breasts, he undid her jeans, pulling them down her thighs. Dill's panties followed as he buried his face in the soft curls between her legs. His hands once again reached for her breasts as he licked, nibbled and sucked at her, before thrusting his tongue deeply inside her as her hands clenched in his hair and she ground herself into his face. He moved up her body once again, one hand releasing her breast just long enough to fully unzip his suit and slip his boxers down as far as he could, and with a fast thrust he was inside her, slamming his body against hers in a fast and furious pace as he released all his pent up anxiety and fears.

Ty buried his face in Dill's breasts, sucking hard, his hands curled under her shoulders, holding her firmly in place. Dill writhed underneath him, her hands gripping his back, clutching at the fabric of his suit, balling it in her fists as she cried out. He clamped his mouth on hers, forcing his tongue between her lips, tasting every inch of her hot, wet mouth, sucking on her tongue, holding her still as he pounded relentlessly into her until at last, and with a final hard thrust, he came, crying out and dropping his head onto her shoulder as Dill's orgasm overtook her and she cried out into his neck.

His chest heaving, Ty rolled off her and tucked himself back into his boxers, standing up to zip his flight suit.

Dill lay watching him. "Well, that was different," she said, adjusting her clothing and zipping her jeans closed.

He sat down on the bed and looked at her. "I wanted you, badly. I couldn't wait," he said simply.

"I noticed," she smiled.

"You're always saying that I need to be a bit more dominating," he smiled back. "Well, I decided I would be."

"And very nice it was too," Dill grinned, sitting up. "I liked it." She kissed his cheek and stroked a hand over his hair. "I think that I just got fucked by Colonel McQueen. He's welcome in my bed anytime."

Ty looked at her, unsure how to take that. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. "I'm not good enough normally, is that it?"

"You're fabulous," Dill assured him. "Honestly. But that was nice too. Unexpected, but great. I mean, come on, Ty, the suit didn't even come off your shoulders and you kept your boots on!" she chuckled.

"Dill," he said seriously, "I think we should do what Hilary suggested." Ty saw her face darken. "Don't be angry with me please, but I think that I need it even if you don't. Sometimes, Dill, you're angry with me and I don't know why. You look at me like I'm a complete idiot for a second, and then you sort of sigh and tell me what I did wrong. Please, Dill, if she can organise it for my next leave, I think we should."

"You've put in for leave at Christmas, Ty! Christmas is to spend with the children, not at some bloody group therapy place telling everyone our secrets."

"What secrets do we have, Dill?" he asked. "I don't know what they are. Maybe I can wangle some extra time. I'll talk to Glen, see if he can help."

"I don't want to, Ty. I don't want to have to tell total strangers about our marriage. I thought we had a good marriage," she said softly.

He shuffled up the bed to hold her. "We do, but it could be so much better. She's right, Dill; we do need to learn to talk to each other."

"We do talk. Sometimes I feel like that's all we do!" Dill sighed.

"We talk about things after they've happened. But think, Dill - usually it's you talking to me, persuading me that everything will be okay. I want to know how you're feeling. I love you, Dill, so you need to learn not to be afraid to tell me. How can I know when to hug you and keep you safe if you never show me you need me? I need you to need me, but you always appear so competent and able to do it by yourself that it feels like you don't need me at all."

"I do need you Ty!" she cried. "More than you can ever imagine! I'm sorry if it looks like I don't. I don't mean it to."

"When I come home on leave I always feel like I've upset your routines... like I'm intruding. After the first day or two that passes, but why do I feel like that, Dill? Does everyone feel that? Or is it just me?"

"I guess most military dads do. You're not alone. I'm sorry. I try my hardest to make sure you feel at home," she told him. "Do I really look at you like you're an idiot?"

"Sometimes," Ty said. "Remember when I asked you what your period was for?" Dill nodded. "You looked at me like I was totally stupid, and it wasn't until I asked why do you have it that you realised I was serious. How am I supposed to know about that stuff if I don't ask? I could never have asked Amy, but I thought you wouldn't mind. I mean, when I was home because of my leg there were times when you wouldn't let me shower with you, or even be in the bathroom at the same time as you. I didn't know why, and that's why I asked. I felt like a complete fool the way you looked at me. It was only afterwards when you explained that it's not something that often gets discussed, or at least the things I asked, that I realised you were right. Amy never once talked about it, other than to tell me that no I couldn't get into bed with her because she had her period. I didn't actually know what it was then. I only really found out when you explained it all to me."

"Oh, Ty," Dill whispered, kissing him softly on the cheek, "you really are such an innocent sometimes."

"There's lots I don't understand, Dill, but I get scared to ask in case you look at me like that."

"But you're twenty-six, Ty. I found it hard to believe you didn't know about that, especially having been married."

"But I've only been down the mines and in the military. Women's things aren't dealt with in pilot training or strategy classes. I asked Amy once why did she bother with her bra because she was always saying how uncomfortable it was. She stared at me and asked if I thought she was some cheap hooker. It seemed a fair enough question to me."

Dill looked at him, studying his face. "You really want to do this thing of Hilary's?"

Ty nodded. "Yes I do."

"Okay then. When you speak to her next you tell her we'll do it. But not at Christmas, Ty. That's for me and the children to enjoy having you home."

He hugged her tight, kissing her. "Thanks, Dill. I know you're only saying yes for me, and I appreciate it. Truly."

"You can show me how much tonight," she grinned. "Come on - we need to relieve poor Cooper of our children."

Ty stood up and pulled her to her feet. "How're you feeling today, Dylan?"

"I feel fine and dandy, thank you, Tyrus," she chuckled, as he pulled her out the door and off to collect their children.

Three days later McQueen stood outside the commodore's door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked twice, smiling at the gruff, "Who's at my hatch?"

"Colonel McQueen, sir," he called. At this hour who else would it be, he thought.

"Well, don't hang around out there, McQueen. Come in and explain to me what these papers sitting on my desk are all about."

"What papers would those be?" McQueen asked as he closed the door behind him.

"Don't play dumb with me, Ty, This request for leave to take your family home."

"Ah, that," McQueen frowned. "I wanted to talk to you about that."

Ross looked at him. "I can't let you go, Ty. I need you here. Our repairs are almost finished and the allied forces are, as you well know, gearing up for a major offensive. I have papers on my desk that the Chiefs of Staff have requested that you look over. Am I supposed to tell them, 'Sorry, but Colonel McQueen had to pop home for a moment'?"

"I won't let them go alone, Glen. 'Arrangements' are being made to get them home; there is no way in hell that they're going along with those arrangements. Who knows if I'd ever see them again? No doubt it would be a 'terrible tragedy', or an 'unexpected chig attack'. Or worse - AI's. I have to take them Glen. I have to know that they're safe." Ty flung himself into his favourite seat and glared at Ross. "You know that it wasn't coincidence, Glen. Only the area around their quarters was damaged. I could have lost all three children. I could have lost my family Glen. Do you seriously think I'll risk whoever it is trying again?"

"You're not going, Ty, it's as simple as that. They're expecting to see a report from you on their plans, outlining any glaring errors or omissions, and making suggestions for improvements. They're relying on you, McQueen. They'll expect you to realise which is most important to you."

"Which is most important to me? Do you even need to ask?" McQueen growled.

"Once I would have staked my life on you doing your duty as a marine officer," Ross said quirking an eyebrow. "Now you have other priorities. Priorities the high ups won't like."

"Once I didn't have a family," McQueen retorted. "This is not about me doing my duty to the corps, Glen. It's about me doing my duty to my family."

"I can't grant you the leave, Ty. If this offensive works, the two weeks you requested for Christmas are yours. If you can improve on their plans, I'll push to get you thirty days, but you can't have any now."

"Lend me your launch. Two days, Glen, that's all I need. I'll take them home and come straight back."

Ross stared steely eyed at him over the top of his guitar. "Hawkes," he said. "Let Hawkes take them home. You filled the 5-8 in on the situation, didn't you?"

"I did," McQueen agreed.

"You trust him with your family?"

"I do," McQueen frowned at him.

"He has black ops training."

"He does."

"Then he can take them home. He can take my launch," Ross told him.

"Hawkes shouldn't be expected to have to face the responsibility of anything happening to them. I'll go."

"Ty, nothing will happen to them! And what makes you so certain that you could prevent it if it did?" Ross thundered at him.

"At least I would be there!" McQueen threw back.

"Put it out of your head, McQueen. You go tell Hawkes he's taking them home. You help them pack up and you say goodbye in the landing bay," Ross glared at him. "And because I know you so well, I _will_ have security standing by to make sure you remain on this ship!"

"This is not fair, Glen! Who knows how much danger my family is in!" McQueen stood up, his face for once showing his anger.

Ross stood up and stepped forward, nose to nose with him. "Who the hell said life was fair?"

They stood staring at each other for a moment or two before Ross turned. "Do you want a drink? You can drink it while you take a look at the plans." He turned back and glared at McQueen. "Because you will be looking at them, Colonel. I expect a report on my desk by 12:00 tomorrow."

McQueen glared back. "Whiskey," he growled.

"Good, because that's what I poured you. Now sit down, drink this, and look at these." Ross handed McQueen a glass and a manila folder.

Four hours later McQueen stumbled through the door to Dill's quarters, slightly the worse for wear after having downed the best part of a bottle of whiskey whilst batting around ideas with Ross, arguing points of strategy and dismissing others as pointless, as well as adding a few suggestions of his own.

He crept into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed to remove his boots. As he tugged at them he fell backwards, and shushed himself. "Quiet, McQueen - you'll wake Dill."

Sitting up again, Ty peered at her sleeping form. "Wonder if she's naked under there?" He nodded his head vigorously. "Yep, she'll be naked. Naked as a jay bird!"

He began to giggle as he slowly, and with much more difficulty than normal, removed his clothes. Still giggling to himself, he slipped into bed with Dill, his hands reaching to feel her to see if she was indeed naked.

"No clotheses," he chuckled. "All naked, all mine."

Very slowly Ty began to run his hand over Dill's body, gently stroking her breasts and her stomach, reaching lower to twine his fingers in the curls of her pubic hair, before stroking her thighs. He'd reached the point where he lay between her legs, his face buried in her stomach, making passionate love to her navel, when she woke up.

"Ty?" Dill gasped, as his tongue dipped in and out.

"Was last time I looked," he snickered.

"Just what is it exactly you're doing down there?" she giggled.

"You has a beautiful navel," Ty told her seriously. "Have you looked at it? Iss all soft and dimpled like a ras'berry. Wish I had some now... pops one in, suck it out, pops one in, suck it out"

"Have you been drinking?" Dill gasped, as she felt Ty's fingers sliding up her thighs and his head slip lower.

"One or two with Glen," he sighed, his breath hot on her thighs. "A man needs a drink when he's planning to bomb the chigs' butts off."

Ty rubbed his face against her heated core. "Mmm, Dill, tha's so good, so soft… I really love you, Dill."

Dill giggled. "Drunken declarations of love... what more could a girl ask for!"

"I'm not drunk," he mumbled indignantly, his lips tickling her as he spoke. "Bloody Glen… says Hawkes has to do it… I tole' him no, I mus do it, but oh no… Chiefs of Staff… bloody bastards… Hawkes…," he trailed off.

"Ty?" Dill looked down at him. He lay with his face buried in her pubic hair, a soft smile on his lips.

"Ty?" She shook him gently. "Ty?" Then harder.

Dill lay back and chuckled before pushing him off her, dragging his comatose body up the bed, and snuggling up next to him.

He woke, head pounding, to the sound of the children crying.

"I don' wanna go home!" wailed Hamish. "Wanna stay wiv daddy!"

"Wiv daddy!" Izzy echoed.

"We have to go home!" he heard Dill telling them. "We can't stay with daddy here. I'm sorry, but that's it. Daddy is not allowed to have us with him on the 'Toga. We have to go home and wait patiently until he comes to see us."

"But I loves him," Cameron sobbed.

"I know you do darling, and he loves you too. But we have to wait for him to come home again to give him our loves, don't we? You can make discs for him and do drawings and paintings, and he'll send you presents. Daddy knows you love him, just as we know daddy loves us. But we're not going today. We need to start packing your toys and things though, because we have to leave tomorrow."

There was silence broken only by the sound of the children sobbing, and then Dill spoke again. "Why don't you go and see if he's awake yet? But if he's still asleep don't wake him. He worked very hard last night with Glen."

"Can we cuddle him?" Hamish asked.

"Yes, but be very gentle. I think he might have an ouchie head today."

The door to the bedroom was pushed slowly open and three heads peered around it.

"Sleep?" Izzy asked.

"Shhh!" Cameron whispered.

"Are you wake daddy?" Hamish called softly.

"I am," he told them. "Ask that mommy if she has anything for my ouchie head."

"Daddy's got an ouchie head, mummy!" Hamish yelled, as McQueen winced.

Izzy and Cameron had already dived onto the bed and into his arms when Hamish joined them for a group hug.

"I love you guys," Ty told them. "I'm sorry you have to go home, but you can't stay here. We're going back to the fighting. It wouldn't be safe for you." He lay there as they covered his face with wet sloppy kisses. "Besides, Humphrey and Gussie need you. Who's gonna take care of them? Who's looking after them while you're here?"

"Malcolm is," said Dill from the doorway, a glass of water in one hand and pills in the other. "You heard us, did you?"

"I did," Ty sighed. "I wish I could take you home, Dill, but Glen won't let me. He needs me here."

She came to sit on the bed. "You were muttering something about the Chiefs of Staff before you passed out last night." Dill handed him the pills and the glass. "Here, take these. They'll help."

"Yeah, classified so I can't tell you, but Glen's agreed to loan his launch and Hawkes will take you home." He smiled sadly, before taking the pills and handing her the glass back. "I'm gonna miss you guys." He hugged the children, who were still clinging to him, but he looked at Dill.

"Ty, we can go home the way we came. Travel arrangements have been made, but we need to leave from Mir," Dill told him, putting the empty glass on the side.

"No, Dill, Hawkes will take you. Today, I'm afraid. We can't spare him longer than a couple of days, so we need to get you packed up and on the move as soon as possible. I'm sorry."

"Going home today, daddy?" Cameron's lip began to tremble again.

"I'm sorry, little guys. But I'll be coming home to see you at Christmas." Ty looked at Dill. "And if all goes well, maybe for 30 days."

"Something to look forward to," she smiled. "Okay, guys, if we have to go home today we better all get dressed and packed before we go get some breakfast. Come on, let's get to it. I'm sure Gamma will be pleased to see us." She stood and began hustling the children out of the room.

"Dill," Ty called after her, climbing out of bed himself and pulling on his boxers.

She turned. "Yes?"

"We need to talk."

"If it's about that retreat, I won't go at Christmas, Ty." She turned to the children. "Okay, boys, your clothes are laid out on your beds. Help Izzy with hers, please, and I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay mummy," Hamish said, taking Izzy's hand and leading her away.

"So tell me," Dill said, as Ty took her in his arms.

"I've talked it over with Glen," he told her. "He agrees with me. I had no post from you, Dill, telling me about this job. Your mother's message didn't get through despite the strings she pulled. They asked for you by name and acceded to all your requests without a murmur. The attack on Mir, Dill... the only places that took direct hits were near your quarters. Glen doesn't like it, and neither do I."

She sat down heavily on the bed. "You think someone's out to get us? Why?"

"Cameron maybe? Maybe they found out that we know what they did. Glen's put feelers out to see what he can find. We'll see." McQueen sat next to her, holding her close as she began to tremble.

"You think that if we went with the planned trip home, something would happen to us?"

"Maybe. That's why Hawkes is taking you direct. I trust him to keep you safe. Glen sent Moira a secure message explaining what we think, asking her to crack down on security and keep you safe."

"The children, Ty. How do I keep them safe?" Dill asked in a low voice.

"Dill, you live in a community where everyone knows everyone else. Moira's going to call a meeting and ask everyone to be aware and keep their eyes open for strangers. She said the gates will be closed to everyone not actually living there, and security around the perimeters has been stepped up. Apparently Malcolm can install motion and heat sensitive sensors along the boundaries, and Hawkes will give him advice on other ways to ensure your safety. No one will get in unannounced, Dill."

"What if they do? What if someone hurts Cameron or Hamish, or Izzy even? What then, Ty?"

"Then not even Glen will keep me here, Dill. I'll go AWOL if I have to, and the 5-8 will probably join me. But don't tell Glen I said that." Ty kissed her forehead. "Let's get you packed, and go get that breakfast you promised the children. Then Hawkes and I'll check over the launch, and we'll get you on your way."

"Shame you fell asleep last night," she sighed.

Ty grinned. "You know, maybe I can snatch twenty mikes or so this morning to say goodbye properly."

"Tyrus McQueen! You are such a bad boy!" Dill chuckled. "Try, please."

"I'll do my best," he winked. "Come on, let's see how the kids are doing."

They went hand in hand to check on the giggles they could hear coming from the children's room.

A few hours later Hawkes had the launch packed with Dill and the children's belongings. Damphousse had brought the children along, Dill having asked her to look after them for her until she got to the landing bay. Hawkes fussed about, making sure the children were happy and strapped into their seats safely.

"So, Nessa, where's Dylan? And the Colonel?" he asked. Staring at the security officer standing by the doorway, he added, "And why's he here?"

"The Commodore thinks it's necessary," McQueen growled, coming through the doorway and glaring at the security man.

Damphousse eyed McQueen critically. Normally he was dressed immaculately, but his flight suit was slightly skewed, as if he'd got dressed in a hurry. She looked more closely at Dill, who followed on his heels, restraining a smile as she saw that the buttons on Dill's shirt were done up wrong. Obviously they'd squeezed in a last minute goodbye.

"Okay," McQueen asked, frowning. "Where're my children?"

"Here, daddy!" Hamish yelled.

"Daddy!" Izzy called.

Cameron sat, Cashus clutched to him, thumb in his mouth, tears streaming down his face.

McQueen knelt in front of him and hugged him. "Don't cry, Cameron, please. If you do you'll make me cry, and once I start, I can't stop, and then I'll flood the ship, and we'll be walking around with soggy feet."

Cameron smiled. "Silly daddy," he whispered.

"That's my boy. I need you to be brave so mommy doesn't cry." Ty looked at Hamish. "I need you to be brave too, and I want you both to try and be good boys for mommy. You do as she tells you, okay?"

"Yes, daddy," Hamish told him.

Cameron nodded.

McQueen hugged Hamish and Izzy, and with a final hug and a kiss for Dill, stepped out of the launch so that Hawkes could close the door. With a heartfelt sigh he allowed himself to be pulled out of the landing bay so that they could leave.

"Sir, they'll be okay, and it won't be long until the next mail call," Damphousse reassured him.

"Assuming my mail gets through," McQueen grouched. With a deep breath, he pulled himself upright and strode off, knowing he still had work to do on the report for Glen.

He didn't, however, head straight to his office. He rushed instead to the tiny observation room Dill loved so much. With a sad smile, he stood staring out the window, watching as the launch flew past, carrying his family home. He wanted to be the one piloting that launch. Damn them, he thought. Damn Aerotech. Damn the chigs. Damn Glen for not letting him go, and damn the Chiefs of Staff for mounting this massive offensive now. He stood watching until he could no longer make out the launch from any of the other traffic that flew around the ship.

"I'm coming home for Christmas, guys," he whispered, pressing his face to the glass. The coldness of it helping to force back the tears that threatened. "I swear I am. No one is going to stop me. Not Glen, and not the damn chigs!"

McQueen was distracted by the sight of the transport bearing the Chiefs of Staff arriving. With a heavy heart he headed back down to his office. That report needed finishing before they called him in to discuss their plans.

Fin.


End file.
